January 10, 2002
When Vodka is your only way out

I came home last night dangerously depressed… One day I dream of locating the reason behind the purpose. I’d rather know why I’ve fallen than sit in a car alone hurting an invisible pain that nobody, but I can see. I don’t want a guaranteed job! I’m only interested in discovering the truth behind why I can’t change. I’m dead in this human suit. My dreams are dead. My passion is dead. My loyalty is bloodless, and my desire is empty. I have no tears to cry, no song to sing, no sweat to pour. I’m aimless, reckless, and not willing to breathe. Without air, I see silence—somehow they own that too.