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150 Years Of Summer.

... I'm not done.

I'll be everything wrong with everything, you know. That's all I have been.

I can see it from here, just like the time before, and the time before that.

The more you get hurt, the easier it becomes to throw your hand up in front of the camera.

I don't care. I will shut myself down, if I have to. I will give in to all of the base desires and stupid flirtations passing by me. I will self destruct and resurrect.

EVERYONE IS FUCKING AFRAID OF ME.

EVERYONE IS FUCKING AFRAID OF LIFE.

EVERYONE IS FUCKING AFRAID OF CHANGE.

I know that people must see their most hated qualities melted down to its essence in my eyes. I know that my lack of control is apparent. I know that everything I am comes off in 30 seconds, or a smaller period of time, perhaps before you can blink your eyes, or turn away. I know that no one likes me, it's one extreme or the other. I have no middle ground, I have no grey area, I have no compromise. I am chronically late, chronically early, chronically never on time.

I am the back up plan. I am the second choice. I am last picked. I am your compromise, your grey area, your middle ground. I am your settlement, after a long battle.

I cannot give you the mountains. I cannot afford the sea. I can't buy the sky on credit, or pay for the road to get there.

You must take them for yourself.

Go claim the land that's yours. Go for yourself, see for yourself, buy what you can. Do what ever your heart desires.

I'm all done with that.

There's no pretty way to end this. I have so much more to say, and I'm so sick of this, and everything. Just. Fuck.

I know that if I cover up my eyes with my hands, you'll still be able to see me.

I can't go with you. You've no idea what my life is like.

I've deleted more words than I care to count.

I would gladly pay you Tuesday, for a hamburger today.

12:25 a.m. - 2003-08-02

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