it's 8:35 a.m., on 2001-06-15 - disconnection.

~

I'm sitting here, and I just had the most tremendous bout of melancholy hit me in the face.

For some insane reason, it feels like I'm lying. Because I'm just laying here in my skin, and I'm not getting out of it at all.

Will and I are supposed to be getting high this weekend, and watching some movie, that will end up being Resevoir Dogs since it always ends up being resevoir dogs.

I don't want to go. Not because I don't want to get high. But I don't, I don't want to get up.

I'm highly against getting up, right now.

Rob thomas says, in the beginning of this live version of 'hang', "This is a song about some friends of mine." And then, "Not that that has any relevance."

I say, it probably has a lot of relevance to them. And to you, since you wrote it. And you're the only ones that matter.

~*~

I still have melancholy.

I still feel like I'm lying, just because I can't seem to find out what's suddenly wrong. It's a vague cloud. And, that sounds wrong-- on the whole, I don't get depressed. I'm strange that way. I have an incurable boredom, but depression has lifted. On the whole, I'm moody, not upset... disconnected. Not depressed.

These things hold very little weight.

I don't know.

~

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what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

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