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2005-04-18 @ 3:41 p.m.
i think that, just maybe, i might write again. old wounds aside, or perhaps clutching them, moving forward tentatively. or at least thinking about it, contemplating it, considering the possibility. sometimes some things are just torture. or maybe i like it that way because it's more interesting, because it keeps me entertained, or i'm less bored that way. what is it about always having to have something else to fantasize about. about about. redundancy creeps in. if i felt like editing i would totally fix that and move it around. but i don't, so i won't. and i wonder, wonder, wonder. and then, i also don't.
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