A Hotel Room In San Diego

I hate warm weather, I hate southern California.... so far away from home. I am farther away from myself than I am from anyone else. Is this clinical depression? I don't know..... Maybe I am just dead inside. I put on La Robe a Parasol and the french pulls the blood from my veins and the tears from my eyes. This is the only feeling I have had in a long time, as soon as I observe it, it passes away. I am nothing, nothing inside or out. What I have done.... my sin cannot be undone. What I want to do.... well there is no want. I just am.... nothing more, nothing less - empty, adrift on a swollen sea of nothing. If I could feel something, anything, a stir toward what I used to love.... ANYTHING. Instead I have tears with no emotion, I cut without pain, and wish I could wish for the end.
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Jul 13, 2010