There is no direct connection that makes everything clear. We speak through shrouded words that are surrounded by a million meanings. Few know the truth, while the majority is left to ponder the endless options that could be. I refuse to be about the could be(s). I am about what is. Which would you choose?

12:15 P.M.
I've been happy for a couple days. What's wrong with me? I'm enjoying it, whatever. It's just strange I guess. Despite the restless sleep last night mixed in with the weird dreams, I made it on time to class this morning, no questions asked. I suppose I'm not thinking as much, which is a good thing, and I'm not sure that I want to know anything more. It only hurts when I know. I expect honesty as a minimum. Give me that much. I laugh at the people who take offense to my member name on Diaryland. It doesn't make sense to me, I guess. It's a name, words that we hide behind, something that could possibly describe what people we really are. The fact that someone would even spend minutes slamming a name via guestbook messages fuels nothing but a good laugh. We all have names, we all have pseudo-names. I am an emo kid, to a certain extent, and that is all you need to know unless I feel it necessary otherwise.







10:20 P.M.
A ball of orange fire fell from the sky engulfing the world with a blaze of color.