2003-11-06 / 8:06 p.m.

"History shows there's not a chance in hell..." AM

Why shouldn't I get high? I can't drive under pressure like this cause i see things (trip wisely, not too much, dearies...it lingers) and i can't afford real drugs (round ones, you know, rattley bottled up ones) and can't sleep because it's just me, and there's anger fogging up mirrors in the city miles between us and i'm so scared i can't speak and i didn't want to let him down, and i don't think i can do this and i hate it when he's upset, not as much as when i can't be for his sake... and i couldn't cry with her there and he wasn't there to hug goodbye and i miss him and i miss him and i miss him and maybe i shouldn't have come home but i couldn't be alone in that place anymore.

my ribcage is lacerated, inside;, my eyes are gooey and clouded; "i'll be on the sidelines with my hands tied watching the show": and the songs don't lose apllicability no matter how hard i try not to hear them.

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