I can't say it like I write it...I can't write it like I think it...I can't think it like I feel it...and I don't feel a thing.
Sunday, February 23, 2003
sometimes i wonder about the future. i wonder what im worth. i wonder if history is being made in room 438. probably not, but its interesting to think about. i guess it's nice to dream.
He heard the words drag out. He felt them pull out of his mouth like freight cars, jangling, backing up on each other, grating to a halt, sliding, clinching back, jarring, and then suddenly stopping as roughly as they had begun. It was over. --Flannery O'Connor, "The Barber"
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