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November 24, 2007,
9:48 p.m.
Tick
Journal, Too often you are the only ear bent towards my mouth ready to catch the whisperings I share, but are you close enough to hear the ones I don't say aloud? It is time journal, it is time. I'm simply an observer now. Recover. I can't put words to anything lately. There's so much I want to say and make real, and the coffee shop just issued it's 10 minute-til-closing warning. The irony, the irony! Strange, but true - I have loved everybody here, I really have. It makes me feel good to say that, and just as quickly I feel bad. I guess the trick to learn is how to love without it being bad and pushing it away.
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