index | archives | notes Monday, Apr. 10, 2006 7:33 p.m. << [ Love: Cancelled ] >> Drawing doesn't bring me any satisfaction anymore, pressing my fingers into my pencil into my paper. The final result is always the same and the only relief it brings is the physical pressure, working muscles to push things harder than they should probably be pushed. Are we seeing a pattern, here? Of course not. At nights I'm on my own, hurling accusations so they will get away from me. I don't want anyone near me. Last night I dyed my hair painted my nails wore too much makeup got about the entire state of Texas worth of people telling me, "your shirt is emo." Thanks. Hadn't noticed. "It's ironic," I say. "I'd never do the emo thing." << | x | >> whatiscopyright.org