[Sep. 12th, 2002|04:51 pm]
I hate thinking.
Thinking...is just...ick.
And making decisions...::heaves sigh:: Sometimes I want to scream.
My parents are acting like the world is coming to an end. Like they've done tons of times before, and that's not helping anything.
I've really been wanting to write lately. But I haven't had anytime...so I've just been going through all my old stuff.
That mellow feeling that I get with writing would be really nice right now. But I feel too ansty....Which means I would have to start something completely new...and that would bother me because I don't have the time to finish it.

Well, I feel like pasting a poem....It's not finished though...
::shrugs:: It's one I did a while back but has been bugging me to put somewhere even though it isn't finished.

She runs.
Falling,
She sobs
Never knowing what chases her,
She runs.
Fear crawls across her skin like a disease.

Denying what she feels.
Denying the possibility,
The thought.
She weeps without a tear.
Looking up from her place on a small speck of land that's Earth,
She screams without a sound.
No one hears.
She doesn't want anyone to hear.
Her pain,
Her sorrow.
Her fear.
She bottles them up because she must.
No other choice.
Always alone,
No one hears her whimper when the fear reaches,
And destroys, yet another part of her soul.


She denies.
It?s not there.
Never was.
She feels no pain,
No sorrow.
No Fear.
She must not lick her wounds because that would be admitting that they exist.
Never! She cries.