what was it like before you were born? nothing that's what it's like when you're dead. nothing and for the first time i'm feeling a pull between what i'm capable of doing, what i should do, and what i will end up doing. i know why i want out. because i have footprints all over my back. and any existing tether that i can recognize i want to cut. i have spent sixteen something years slaving to the new york school system. stupidly following boys around in search for an emotion i still don't believe in. i'm too nice for my own good. i'm still alone in a room full of people. i think... i'm scared. scared that this is how it will be for the rest of my life. and i only feel this when i'm sober. so i remain addicted as much as i can. regardless of people telling me it's wrong. they're addicts too. and i get no answers and i don't get no change and sometimes i'm sad. sometimes i'm sad without rhyme or reason. tonite i wouldn't mind taking care of me and only me. i know i can't be alone. but sometimes i want to be. the sound of silence. and let my thoughts go. through my blood. when i allow this, something happens to me. the words come out faster than i can physically keep up with. sometimes making sense to me... only. in these moments when i feel words working, answering, revelations. and how people can get away with certain things and how i can hear my father telling me... because he always assumed i was born with the knowledge but it takes time to learn nothing ever changes. 12 february 2003