9:24 p.m. - 2005-04-27
When the Lights Go Out
This weekend, I was serious. I felt that it was the right time, that I had at last burned the last pages of my sordid history and could now lie down in the oblivion of a futureless beginning.

Only...

There was blood. A lot more than usual, because I kind of was clumsy with the light bulb. That was hopeful. Only not. Because things are never sharp unless you want them to be dull.

Today.

Today is okay, but probably not. I don't think I will have any scars, except on my fingertips, which is not where they were supposed to be at all. If the future is still on the horizon, I don't want to fumble with feelings. But then...nothing was ever actually intended to heal. And scars is only one letter short of stars.

I'm not feeling my words right now; it's as if they're a mirage in the desert. I can see them, but they're empty.

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