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It wasn't build, it was cement.

I have a problem with picking fights when nothing is wrong.

When everything seems to be okay, I'll find something to complain about, something to argue, some type of debate.

I can't find anything worth writing about. My life became unimportant all of the sudden, and I can only talk about video games so long before even I pull the plug.

So I guess I shocked myself yesterday, when you kind of retracted pieces of our conversation the night before. I felt like you wanted it to be less important, and my reaction to it was fairly minimal, considering the gravity of the statement, the weight of your voice. We gave it conditions under which it must exist, and rules and boxes where it belongs, and I know that's not right.

It's not right to define things in order to contain them, because something inside says you're not allowed. Not allowed because of distance and circumstance.

And I know I said it couldn't happen, that everything was stacked against us, that it was impossible. But, I said those things with the same tone I said I'd never do things I've already done. It's a bad habit I have, to set up rules so I can break them.

. .. .

Because I'm sick of rules. I'm sick of these laws that we make to protect ourselves, and the fear that creates them. They make me tired. They are what keep me frustrated and lacking motivation. Because everyone has these rules, then the rules pile up, and all we're ever left with are people who can't take a leap of faith.

I'm sick of jumping into walls made up of everyone else's rules. I want my own rules. I want to break them. I want chances and openings. I want to be allowed to keep fucking up, because that's the only way I learn how to destroy things.

. . .

I wonder how many songs have lyrics about breaking rules, and I wonder how they never get stuck in your head, the way they run through mine.

7:34 p.m. - 2003-02-24

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