2002-09-17 - 11:48 p.m.
sometimes, the world just seems too big to handle. breathe in. i hold it in till my chest begins to burn and my legs kick a bit. release. and the next breath of air tastes sweeter than the last.
i scan my memory. every year has been a broken record of routine, everyday becomes a vague reminder of that which it succeeds. maybe perpetual misery isn't a concept that is so far off base, but i'm growing weary of it all. a rusty blade made a pilgrimage to the dump around the time of this nation's birthday, but who could forsee the scars that its absence would cause?
