Producing things that are completely worthless. I think I've got the writing shits. Hehe. I keep writing all of this out, then going, "Should I honestly post this?" while Cacidy continues to bother me by calling me 'sugar muffin' or 'baby'. How GREAT Sundays have started to become. I'll try to call my friends, but of course, noone's there. It's just Yarra, let's not talk. Let's hang up. Goodbye Yarra, have a pleasant insanity.
There's beautiful snow on the ground. Oh, how much I would love to jump and frolick in that snow. But, I'm not, and I won't, and I can't. Because I'm here, in my basement, on my laptop, doing homework, and feeling a sickness I can't quite describe. It's not a liver disease, it's not cancer. It's...it's...ah, shucks, I've lost it. The name really doesn't matter anyways. The situation remains the same.
I think this began with doing math, and singing music. Only a few hours ago, I was almost content. Almost zen. Well, where the hell did that go? Out of my head, into the clouds...floating around somewhere. And now I'm writing, writing, writing...trying to recapture a sense of bitterness that has only dulled over time. Anthems are hard to write. I'm trying for a grand escape, that special finale, my anthem. Screw anthems, I'll stick to my pistols.
To know that you've
killed a girl?
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