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Slowing down to speed up.
On Sunday, Sept. 17, 2006 at 3:05 p.m.

I'm really tired. I think I'm getting sick. Either way, it's hard coming up with the energy to deal with everything. I don't want to do homework or clean my room or start college applications or discuss problems or make an effort. I just want to lie in bed listening to music, or lie on the couch watching a movie.

I want soup. And a hug. A good hug. And maybe to cry. My brain is too fried for me to put thoughts together in any kind of coherent manner. I wish boys didn't matter to me. The instinctual need for companionship proves very irritating. I have to deal with angry hormones, a lonely heart, and a conscious telling me what I want is wrong or foolish or impossible. I hate hopeless hope. I know my hope is so fucking in vain but no matter how much I try I still hope.



hold me close like we both died
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