Wicked Seclusion September 13, 2002 - 1:34 p.m.

My fingers are still wicked painful. But, as you can see, it's not stopping me. Although, they did make me cry last night. I don't think it was completely from the pain. I think it had more to do with the helplessness I felt. Hell, I couldn't even move the blanket to cover myself. So Chris helped me out. Covered me up, made sure the blanket was all tucked in on the edges, and rubbed lotion into my fingertips. It helped, but only momentarily. I was asleep shortly after that anyhow, so I didn't mind.

Penny rocks!

I often feel left out in conversations, events, life. But the strange part of that is... I often don't care to be included. Being left out isn't necessarily a bad thing. I'm far more content in my own little world, away from drama and bullshit. I find myself not speaking at all. For example, it was nearly half way through lunch last night at work, before I said anything at all. I don't know that anyone even noticed. People talk to me, and I simply nod and smile. I don't mean to come off as rude or bitchy, it's just that I don't have anything to say. Why talk if nothing other than crap comes out of your mouth? I think it's retarded to spit out the little words just to seem polite or whatever. If you have nothing to say, don't say anything. Right? Makes sense to me. Simple logic. When will the rest of the world catch on?

Now listening to: Nobody seems to see / How much, how deep, how far these things can be / My eyes are dry and / I, I still don't even know you / I, I still wish that I could hold you / I, I sometimes wanna die ~ Sometimes Wanna Die - Joydrop

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