Screaming at you at the top of my lungs — Only heard from between my own ears. And sometimes all I want is for you to care; it doesn’t even have to be in the same way. Your lack of response to compliments in the form of brief myspace comments and annoyingly long text messages leave me in sullen states. This is borderline pathetic by now. After all, I am only being myself, but who am I anymore. A glass half full kind of boy; I’m taking my naivety with me to the grave. As always, wanting to type “leaving it all in His hands” ; ever reiterate that to yourself so many times that it gets to the point of saying it just to get through the day? I know God is good and I trust in His promises, but I’m still praying intently that my head and heart are nothing less than genuine. It’s about time to move on. You obviously have. Sometimes I just don’t know nothin’ ’bout hopes or spirits or hearts or lungs or love.


Coffee Bean cancellations.

December 5, 2006

From the incoherency of the thoughts and ideas in my head to indecipherable run-on sentences in this almost single-subject diary. These are love letters and notes from my bashful and apprehensive throat. This is barely comprehensible. And sometimes there is no other way for anything to ever be explained. And sometimes maybe you don’t want it to be. Wrap all this around your head like the way I’m wrapped around your finger.

Have fun tonight and paint our town red.
Oh… Happy birthday Steph. Again and again.