2002-12-10 - 8:36 p.m.
some infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing...we are all so fragile. the slightest wounding to our spirit and we tailspin like a crudely fashionted paper airplane with a broken nose, swan-diving brilliantly into the ground. i am such a mess. a nearly unrecognizable image of the person i used to be. and it's not just that i've got rage and pain to vent, like a cat ridding itself of a noisesome but normal furball that once choked up can be left in an obscure corner, merely an unsightly tangle to be taken out with the trash. no, this is different. it's that i've been crushed by a bolder in the shape of my life and the quivering, mangled flesh i spew are pieces of me. oh God, it's me. it's me. i am not okay
