Sunday, June 13, 2004

I'm sweating. My hair is damp and clings to my forehead uncomfortably. The heat is oppressive, and I hate it, but not as much as I hate air-conditioning. So I spend my nights like this- sweating, thinking of how pathetic life is, how great life is, thinking of giving up, and of holding on. Am I blabbering? Do I think too much? I can't help it, there's nothing else to do.

-- tee @ 11:16 pm |