into thin air

"i'm in a book for you to read and then throw out.
i wasn't born, i was just dropped into your arms.
well, mom, i've been bad and i want to come home."


each day gets easier, or just more tolerable.
each day is just one less, actually.
maybe it's this new CD, or the weight of an essay lifted from my shoulders.

all i know is i felt human today.
i had, probably, 20 ounces of water spilled across my desk, which of course, dripped to the crotch of my pants. and it seriously looked like i had peed my pants. a lot.
hilarious.

and i'm looking for a sign. and i think i may have found one today. but i don't want to believe it. cowardly.

hey shame,
how you doin'? it's been awhile. but glad to see you've made yourself at home.although i have to say: i didn't miss you one bit. you're welcome to leave whenever you'd like.

the cure for summer nostalgia might just be the crisp, cool air of autumn.

i'm thinking of chopping a good 6 inches off my hair. hmm.