Mood: sorrowful We were there, sharing moments like two innocent children. We'd spend countless hours doing nothing in particular, and he was the only one who would walk the tracks with me. Walking the tracks has always been a pleasure of mine, because for me, it symbolizes youth and better, care-free days. I don't know. I've fucked up so immeasureably. I pay for it every single day. And not to sound like a martyr, but I do deserve it. When you treat beautiful things as garbage, you lose them. At least I learned a lesson, albeit in a very painful way. I guess sometimes that's the only way it will blister the surface. Someone is enjoying his company right now, and I can't help but wish it were me. I feel so helpless. My sincereity may be questioned, but there is no hint of lie or fib in any of what I'm expressing. Please be merciful, even though I don't deserve it.
Flourescant Tubes
2:38 a.m.//10.27.07
Sound: drips
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