Skipping Stones and Sinking Hearts.

Oh darling, please believe me.
Oh darling, please be.

Back and forth yet again. On and on and on and on. Nothing ever makes sense. But then again, sense lies within nothing.

Maybe it should have hurt, but I didn't let it. That would be silly, and pointless. No control.

And it all is rather amusing, really. It's like some bizarre circle. No, not a circle. But some sort of shape, what with all the parties involved.

I'll face something. Or maybe nothing at all. I'm already inside the abyss, as it were. Though I have already faced it to an extent.


These talks have been nice. Just talking to you in general makes me happy, but even moreso when we can discuss something of relevance. There's always more than we ever accept when actually in each other's presence.

If I could change it I don't know that I would. I wouldn't want to manipulate or alter anything, even if it did make me happier. Your happiness supersedes mine and always will.


Locked within. Or maybe without. The 'key' you asked about? Long gone. That one, at least. Maybe all of them. I barely keep track anymore. It seems pointless to focus on something that's so far gone.


Don't even know where I'm going anymore. On and on and on and on.





Please believe me.

Oscilations Slowed Down.

I WANT TO CATCH ON FIRE.
I WANT TO CATCH ON FIRE.
I WANT TO CATCH ON FIRE.

But there is no spark.

Tumultuous leanings and speakings, one never does seem to learn from their mistakes, all parties included. Less and less yet more and more.

Giving up after all this time makes it seem like such a waste, but I know I should. I'm on the wrong ladder, I suppose. And it appears I'm not even as high up on that one as I had originally assumed. Such a disparity in perception.

Clicks and blips, twitches and creeks. I wish I could make it all. For me, for you. For anyone who would listen and especially those who won't, because they're the ones I'm really after.

Paraphrased and reorganized beyond recognition. The original content always dissipates into something different. That seems to follow me in any medium I choose.

Why you chose the one furthest away is so beyond me. At this point I don't understand why you still try. But I'm not really one to talk.

Partitioning off those things which used to be held dear. It's all so pointless anyways. So I may as well separate myself.

Emotions are wasted on those who don't want them. Better than those who don't deserve them, I suppose. Though you do that, too.

I'll never be anything more than what I am right now. Even when I am, I won't. At the core it's all the same.

Thousands of Dead Gods.

Confusion confusion. I don't know what's going on, or where we may or may not be going. And I'm too afraid of pushing you away to ask. I suppose we'll see this weekend.

Maybe I'm reading too much into things, as usual, but maybe not. Little things always seem like they SHOULD be more significant, simply because they are so small.

Ring ring ring. It's all so frivolous.

I wish I knew where to go with any of this. I can't ever take my own advice, it seems.

Though more than anything I wish it'd go my way, just this once. I'll walk over those clandestine sidewalks, and I won't even need the extension cord.

Tornado for a soul sometimes seems like an appropriate description of myself. But there I go romanticizing everything once again. I really should break that habit.

Clandestine sidewalks indeed. Well, clandestine, at least, maybe not so much the sidewalks. It always has been a very secret thing, and still is.

But as if any of it really matters to begin with. Ah, pessimism.


Static crunches and violent, indiscernible words. It makes me sleep so peacefully. Though sometimes I do wish for nightmares, since they're the only dreams I can ever remember.


I wish my thoughts were as peaceful as this music makes me feel all the time.

I Wish You Could Remember My Name.

We're still screaming. Though it's really a 'me' and not a 'we'. And I'm not really screaming, since that would draw far too much attention. And for once in my life I'm actually trying to keep something to myself so I don't make it public business.

I'm so afraid of pushing you away, of making you feel weird or malcontented enough to think that maybe we just shouldn't speak. I know it probably won't happen, but the fear remains.



Low end frequencies are so incredibly soothing. Like a long slow pulse through my entire body.
Hum. Hum. Hum.


I read all these things and I'd like to hope they were you, though I know they're not; they can't be. You wouldn't even be familiar with the place, the thing. So I know it's not you.


Just give me a sign. Or don't really. I almost wish I hadn't told you about this. Or that. Both the big and the small.



But maybe I'm all wrong. Maybe all this tossing and turning. All these late nights (even by my standards), all these moments, minutes, hours of silence in my head where all I can do is think of you are just precursors to something bigger and better.


Though in my experience, things generally don't work that way.

We're still screaming.

But again, it's really just me. Without a voice. At least without the one I need.

Maybe if I was more confident. But maybe not.



So indecisive about every little detail. Even looking at the 'big' picture I try to process it all. That's probably my demise. Over-analyzation.


Pick pick pick pick pick. Nothing's ever good enough. Everything's too good. It all makes no sense. Nothing makes all the sense in the world though.


Maybe that's why I'm so content to lay in bed for hours and do nothing but tilt my head and stare at my wall. It's soothing, for some reason. There's everything in that little piece of wood. Frame by frame, inch by inch.


I really hope you don't read this, even though I told you about it. I'm sure I'll sound insane. It just drives everyone away. It was probably a mistake in the first place to tell anyone about this. But here I am.


On and on. Always.