Come Back There isn't a damned day that I don't think of you. I wish you hadn't imprinted so badly into my mind. I wish we hadn't ever kissed or hugged or even met. I'm lying. I don't know where I'd be if none of things happened. They tell me you're ruining me. That you're what's causing me to think of suicide. I don't believe them. I think it's the idea that we'll never be anything more than friends. Hardly that anymore. Just acquaintances now. But where would I be without you? Really?

Delight "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume." (Romeo and Juliet Act 2; Scene 5)

Juliet And The Rose "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet" (Romeo and Juliet, Act 2; Scene 2)

Insomnia At Its Best While everyone else is sleeping, I lie awake. I think about the past and the future. The present is dark and depressing, more so than the past. A broken heart, a lost love. What am I to do with such things? Throw them away and forget? Or keep them and remember? I can't let go. I won't let go. I promised I wouldn't. I promise a lot of things. I promised not to hurt myself, never to let go, never to give up, to look at the bright side. I've never broken a promise intentionally. Commitments? Those I have broken, but we don't talk about those. My irrational fears and dazed thoughts swarm my brain keeping up later. It's a bad sign when people can tell you haven't slept in months. Insomnia tends to take its toll about now, but I guess fate is further delaying my ability to sleep. It's hard to tell whether or not I'll be okay in the morning. If I sleep, it will be for only an hour. Then I'll wake up and the cycle begins again. Lovers and promises. Commitments and grudes. They all come back to haunt you when you don't sleep. Some blame my actions on teenaged hormones, but I beg to differ. I have no control over what I do while Im angry. While I'm depressed. I can only control what I do when I'm happy. After the cycle finally ends, I'll sleep for another hour. The pattern continues until morning, where I'll wake up and begin another day in hell. For now, I lie awake in bed, thinking thoughts that should never be thunk.

Uninspired I'm staring at an empty page. Usually it would be flooded with ink, overflowing with metaphors and colorful words, but today it's blank. I'm pondering an empty canvas. The colors are all missing. I can't find the picture that fits on it. So it sits, blank and untouched. I'm feeling the keys of a piano under my fingertips. They make no sound. I press one down and hear a lonely note that fades slowly. The music has gone and it is silent.