2003-06-28 - 2:21 a.m.

'i write about morbid things to calm the urge to do them'

There are days in this life when I don't feel meant for this world. I feel like I'm faulty somehow. Like when I was being all glued together someone forgot to add this really vital piece of me. And the leftover part was so small and oddly-shaped that when she propped me up, I didn't quite look unwhole lacking it. So she threw the piece out, because how important could such piece be? She probably figured that no one would notice. She probably thought that even I would never be the wiser.

But then some days I feel like that tiny little piece could have held some secret long denied me. Like perhaps it was the key to unlocking a bounty of green green grass and unscathed happiness. Without it I just don't feel strong enough somehow or good enough for this raging, dizzing world. I feel too sensitve. And sometimes the softest touches hurt so deep.

Today it took over. That unwhole feeling. That empty feeling. Today I felt too low. I felt like I was falling. And I continued to fall for hours. In fact, I'm still falling now.

�

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