i'm a in a hobbes-like stupor. the tiger, not the english philosopher. it's freezing outside but boiling inside. it's messing with my immune system and i think i'm getting sick. anyway, i guess this is a filler. i'm kind of tired. well, maybe i'm more like satchel in get fuzzy. i can't really relate to people- only cartoon animals, i suppose. i wonder what my dad got me for christmas i want to step on the box but i can't think of a way to make it seem like an accident. maybe i'll step on it anyway. my poster of the van gogh painting "cafe at night" keeps falling down. i kept it rolled up under my bed for the longest time because my dad said he would get me a nice frame for it. last night i just gave up and stuck it on the wall perpendicular to the left side of my dresser using cellotape. i don't think that makes sense but i understand what i mean. truth be told i'm kind of under the influence right now so it's hard to haslkjaadsadk so you know i dont know what

there is so much i have loved but it is gone now. i miss it, obviously. i just want to relive previous parts of my life like the way you can reread your favourite parts of a book. there isn't any light where i am right now. it is cold and sad and hopeless. my heart has rusted and my mind is in hibernation. i am alone within myself. there are no words where i am. i get jolts when people ask me about you. little memories of the light fill me and then they are swallowed whole by the dark. i shrug and tell them that you don't exist anymore. the futile, the futile, it outweighs the beautiful.

i don't like them. apparently somebody sent me a message but i can't read it because they didn't write a title. titles are stupid. you need the queen to get a title in the first place. AND SHE'S BUSY OK?