people tell me i'm wrong
2003-09-13 || 11:33 p.m.

And I could say random things forever and it would make no difference.

I could sleep forever, never get up again and ultimately, who would care?

I can write whatever I want here, because really and truly I don't actually mean anything to anyone.

And I love the way the houses outside make me feel.

I love how they speak of my isolation.

I love how words stick in my mind even though, like the wisest person in the world said, they mean nothing at all.

And I'm so happy that every now and again I get these little glimpses of understanding. Rebecca says I say I'm not human because I'm depressed.

I say I'm depressed because I'm not human.