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.
Friday, March 21, 2003
wow. it's 4:00, the first half of my semester is over, the sun is shining, im about to leave for a week long trip, and i am filled with joy. this was much needed.
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"
No comments:
Post a Comment