There's a quiet awkwardness wherever I go.
It is mine, I know that much.
It is contagious, I also know this.
It comes along with my self loathing, another thing I am aware of.
This night is empty and ill.
My mind is blank, and my stomach is turning.
I rest my lifeless, tired fingers on the keyboard, searching the room for something to trigger a topic.
I have nothing to write.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
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