january 21st, 2004 / 11:54 p.m.

i'm sick of writing songs. even sicker of righting wrongs. sick of being stuck alone. and sick of feeling like i have no home. late night fights and make out sessions with memories are slowly but surely killing me.

and do you ever feel like you're falling apart?

stickes don't seem so strong under the weight of the entire world. sing me something to help me sleep. whisper something in my ear to make me forget how black the night really is..

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