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May 11, 2003-11:32 pm
i have so many things to write. there was a lot of time on trains and subways to be thinking. i wrote a lot but it's just a lot of mindless scribbles etched in napkins and paper magazine subscription cards now. i wrote about nicotineboy and also the punkrockbassstud who's been on my mind. i have a tendency to make the wrong decisions or let others choose for me. why am i always wrong or is it that i'm just never happy with what i have? these magazines are filled with ballpointpen hearts with names and initials fitting perfectly. your name fits nicely in my harshly drawn hearts but you seem to be having some trouble squeezing into the real one in my chest. i can't even read my own handwriting, smudged by the palms of my little bittenfingernail hands. i write these sentences, no stories, and no poetry, i've got no way with words. i've just been fitting them together to try and help me sort out this mind. i've been trying and trying and trying to fill myself up with anything and anyone i can find but its only physical, it's purely physical and i am managing to remain completely empty in this barely beating heart of mine as cliche as all of this sounds. nicotineboy is losing points here w/ all of the quietboy's sad eyes and strong heart. i don't even remember anything about nicotineboy from the first day i met him, if i didn't fall for you then, how can i possibly do so now? your kisses are like sucking on candy ciggarettes but they still leave me dry and empty and wanting something more, something stronger to knock me senseless. won't someone fucking hit me?
