^ (n a v i g a t e) ^
9:04 p.m., 2003-07-17
my god the therapy of a well-strung guitar giving my fingers, soul and ears what they need. the long hours work on me and bring me what i need as well. i don't mind that my mind tries to remember what i'm supposed to forget. forget that that's what i've seen. all the exchanges and weird veiled meanings. the long hours take it away from me, take away the returning thoughts and everything reminding me again and again.i have those dreams again. i drown over and over.
'breathe' you say,
and i am.
but i'm also not.
i suffocate and my eyes roll. i wake up and strum to forget.
pass the time.
remember later.
someday i might miss missing you.
don't read this.
too late.
