2004-10-16 - 8:42 p.m.
"The shades I paint my own mind. The pain inside my own mind slipping further deep inside. I hear the world beyond myself scream inside this hollow shell." - Only Crime, "Virus"
Hey there baby, baby. It stands reason that I'd have to repeat it. You never pay attention to anyone but yourself.
Never try to work this like a game of chess. You've perfected that pout, that sad little face. You take things too hard, you feel too deep, and you're too damn passionate. You hide it with insensitivity and sarcasm.
Who else has a hateful notebook? Who else tortures herself with sick crap spewing out of her mind? Walk with a swagger, speak with a dagger. Suppress and depress. Pretend to smile when all you really feel are the gashes you've inflicted upon yourself.
His eyes burned, his smile sizzled, his words chilled, and I was dead.
It's that post-popsicle feeling without the popsicle. Shivering with a sweet taste left in your mouth. If only the case were known. You want to see them, but you don't b/c you're so painfully inadequate.
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