10:04 p.m. - 2003-04-10
\"In a sense\" sounds like \"Innocence\"...in a sense.
SO..I finally 'fessed up and even got her to go see the band with me, which was, in a sense, a waste of time, b/c I wouldn't talk to him anyway. Oh, honestly, it's not that big a deal; millions of people do this every day, and millions more will continue to do this after I'm dead and worms are playing pinacle, whatever that is, on my snout. This is why I don't write about my life; what's there to write that hasn't been written? Sure, everyone can relate to what I'm saying, but nobody really knows what to do about it, because in the end, everyone does everything the way they feel they need to, or the way they have to because they don't have the guts to do it any other way.

The thing is, I guess I've sort of changed; a lot of my randomness seems to have been replaced with morbidness..or is it morbidity? I think it's actually because I don't have a "real" diary anymore. (That's right, folks and lovers, I finally filled up my old one, and the new one that was intended to be a diary actually is now my gerbil journal. Oh, shut up; it's not that funny.)

People seem to think that I'm pretty. And people appear to be attracted to me. I don't understand, because if people are attracted to me because they think I'm pretty, that's stupid. What has that got to do with the price of beans in China? (What has what I look like got to do with the price of beans in China, for that matter? Do they even EAT beans in China? If so, they better stop; I think it must be some sorta aphrodisiac or something over there.) I don't have anything to do with what I look like. Now, it's possible that it has something to do with the way I act, and that makes even LESS sense, because I get sick of myself all the time; trust me, I'm not that great. I can't even talk to one of my best friends, and that's so strange to me. I never used to have a problem doing it, but now she writes sometimes, when she can, and I just don't know what to say. What she writes touches me deeply...but I have no response. So many changes...and I know I'm not handling it well, and yes, I am angry, but I also realize I have no real right to be. I'm not honest; I'm just a coward. I have no real right to criticize your lifestyles when I don't fully understand them....right? Of course it hurts that I never see you...but even seeing you hurts, and I can't explain that. Maybe it's because you were one of the first people I ever felt connected to who didn't seem threatening to me, or something ridiculous like that. I don't know. I worry about you, and I love you; I'll always love you, no matter how much I hate everything else. I don't know if you are reading this or not, but if you do, I hope you at least know that I'm talking to you, even if you don't understand exactly what I mean. Don't feel bad if you don't---I don't. Sometimes, I think I'm just letting you slip away because it's easier than fighting to keep you if I'm just going to lose anyway. Anyway, at least your pictures are all in order. :-)

Well, this wasn't at all what I came to say; not much fun to read, is it? Ha, bet you don't like the new SaraNade, do you? Tough, nobody asked you. Apparently, when WooWoo said that she always knew I was capable of being a little fish, she knew what she was talking about. To be perfectly honest, I don't like it much, either. On another note, witches cry sand instead of tears, and nobody can hear the sound of a spider weeping.

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