I don't think I can take it anymore. I am not sad, I am miserable. I'm tired of the tainted thoughts that run rampid though my head every waking moment of my life. Sleep was not disturbing last night. I want my kisses back from you... I listen to the same six songs everytime I write now. Music is pain for me, but I can't stop playing. I can however stop writing, which I will do right now.

I'm angry.

Let down:It's falling apart and I can't tell you why. My Clarity cd is out of commission. It skips and I can't listen to it anymore. Sad me.