pat benetar said it best...

i'm sorry, to
the soldiers i've lost,
who've fought
to keep me alive, and
well...
who've tried
to break this shell but
found the binds
too strong.
heard the words
"i'm just a hole",
and laughed, at
all the meanings,
but really, i guess
that's what i am,
empty and less-than-
purposeful.
i thought
i would open my eyes
and things would
be different,
things would be
steady and true...
the field littered
with blood and bodies
behind me, by my own hands,
seeping through armour,
taste of iron on
my bitter tongue.
i'm winning this war
but no battles on
my bedpost
could save them
from destruction, and
instead, i sit
in silence spitting
blood under the table,
away from you.

k.

i feel like i am fighting to survive, fighting everything i have known over the last three years. the high points have been phenomenal, sand in my shoes and the whirr of hot tub jets on my back... and the lows, sauturated in silence and saline... well, i just haven't been able to beat them. maybe i should move, because in many ways, atlanta is telling me to; even though i hang on to hope that there is a reason (other than the specific few i chose) that i came back. that everything will come around. that my strength will rear it's awesome ugly head, and things will for once be positive.

ugh. how emo of me and my black hair. will you guys hang on a second? i'm gonna go cry with the vegans.