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2001-04-24 || 5:29 p.m. || it's just not a good idea. and you are riding your bike home. || i stumbled upon it. you. and i feel like i have opened the door without knocking, or shown the picture that has been held safe in your pocket for so long to someone you don't know, or uttered your middle name in a public place. i don't like that i am writing about boggle and you are writing about having your heart sewn back together with dental floss. i don't like the look that you get when i tell you i am not going to the movies with you. that i have plans. i don't like that our breaking up, your broken heart, have become hobbies for you. i don't like that i know very much about you, the way you have your head cocked and are moving your mouth to form these words as you read this, but i am not supposed to acknowledge that for fear that you will take it the wrong way. i wish there weren't all the cobwebs between us that make everything so sticky. so difficult. such an issue. how does one go about fixing all this without the glue showing too much, the cracks looking a bit strained? guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |