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Conversations consisting

of the kind of marks we make when we're trying to make a pen work again.

Created on 2004-11-27 03:49:56 (#5280801), last updated 2005-04-20

5 comments received, 13 comments posted

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me? Why me? why don't I put something about you in here? something that says This is who you are and you still don't even know me or who I really am. None of you know what I've been through and why. None of you know what I've done and what I've seen and none of you know anything about the real world out there. Not until you are thrown out there with no shoes and only 5 bucks in your pocket do you know what the real world is. It's death. It's life and death and distruction. It's crap. It's the most crap you've ever seen in your entire life. And it's like quick sand. It pulls you in and you get stuck in all the shit and then you become shit. First you think I'll just get shit faced today. Then you get stuck and soon you're doing it every day and there's no longer anyone there to pull you out because you left them all behind of your own free will. Those 30 year old men who still live in their mother's basements have the right Idea. Hold on to what you have until the last second... until you can honestly tell yourself you're ready. Then hold on a little longer.
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