2010-11-26 - 11:37 pm
Here, as of late, I find confusion the stem of all my insanity...
Who am I?
What is all this wasted time giving me in the end?
There is no surcease of these dreams, these ideals, the dreams that I cannot make a reality. There is no place where I can hide and be nobody in particular. There is no flighted escape from this reality for just a short while. All I have is the pain I have endured, and that I have yet to expect. The friends I could escape to are all wrapped up in dramatic upheavals of insecurity.
So many times I have come here for the sweet taste of anonymity, now even that has been tainted....
There is no rest for the wicked, lest of all me
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