I don't think I can do this. I don't have anything left to say. I'm already slipping. I can't stand it. I want to post some cartoons so bad. But I refuse. I won't. I must stop. And I must learn to write again. I must express something real. I must be myself. I must not overlook this sweet time in my life and let it slip away, all unwritten about, it would be sad. What, are only desperate times worthy of journaling about? Is that all I know? Well wait a minute, who says I'm not entering into a whole other desperate time, it just doesn't show on the surface yet? I mean, is it even something, or nothing at all, when one begins to walk so slow they seriously begin to consider not walking at all? Is that desperate? Is that bad? Am I worried? Does it matter? Did I know this was coming all along, so I raced to love and safety so I could do it in style?

heehee  yeah that's what I did.