and, honestly, i feel like i'm going to puke right now, but im trying to work around that.

i'm tired as hell, too, right now. but im trying to work around that, too, so i can talk to the girl.

i need to talk to her. i need her to tell me it'll work out.

shes the only one i think i'd believe it from.

i just need her, dammit.

for a moment, this afternoon, i thought i was seriously fucked. after an hour or so of driving i remembered i was crayon and could pull miracles out of my ass if i wanted to, so somehow i would get things to work out.

so now i am only mildly fucked.

and i wish it was my fault. that would make it so much easier to handle, because all the weight would fall right on me.

but it doesnt.

so to top it off i've got to deal with people feeling bad. and i dont want that.

but hell, thats what i get for trusting people eh.

trust. fuck.

drove to kate's grave. that's all we'll say about that.

ah, was just told "after you left last night the girl signed on and left real quick. she must have been looking for you."

"ah, nah, probably not."

"don't sell yourself short, crayon," she's using my phrase against me, "the kid really likes you."

"i know she does."

damn damn damn damn. only reason i came home when i did was because i had no other place to go.

wish i had stayed out longer, though. then i wouldnt have had all this extra time.

i get antsy so damn quickly.

fucking confined. gets to me.

"my parents are worried about me," i say.

"yeah?"

"they think i'm pissed at them. and/or depressed."

"you might be a little depressed."

woo.

a little.

im tired of waiting.

tired tired tired.

such a damn elusive entry.

tired.