why I'm back
It brought back old memeories to come back here and read an entry from laffinkid before I started mine.
Those were my days.
To turn the music up high and hear the typing of my fingers corospond with the beats of the music as each and everyone of my thoughts came out like music on the computer screen.
That was all I needed.
Now I write in hidden books and small pages.
I write in a journal for a simple grade. But I squeeze the words out like a week old constipated poo that can't wait any longer.
I guess you could put it that way.
My page is white and simple and I would spend an hour describing me.
This has turned into my book that has been neglected.
But how can I help it when a good junk of these memories came from a time that only hurts to remember.
I CAN remember the good with nice lights and smooth beats.
My fantasies were put out to play and it took me a long time to even remember out to start a lengthened thought.
And we talked a few days ago, me and that laffinkid about how each book contains a stage, faze, aspect of our lives. Like a seperate book. With a start and beginning. Each book closing that part of our lives.
This diary is my book, but it's gone on like a four hour movie that has different videos for different parts of the movie.
I thought of ending this book. But it's too hard. Even though the entries are lengthy I've formed an extensive attachment to it, Where I can't just press "delete" and see it all fade away into the computer along with everything else.
This book started out with with sneaking out of windows and riding bikes until 3 in the morning with descriptions of the tight sqeeking of the slow moving bicycle chains.
To my confusion of exactly how I should define myself ethnically. When I am what I am. I Am Race.
I lost myself in other diaries and found myself in a place where music painted the walls.
I pushed too far and learned a lesson of a lifetime. I took my fire haired friend down with me and I'm more than luck to still have her.
I went to love in trucks and falling in love. For real this time....
Now... it's growing up and doing it fast.
Making desions for life and I'm more than afraid. Everyone's paths are shaping rapidly, and I'm frantically holding on to my self being and spirits that surround me.
I found myself here again. Because when I spoke last night about what a year ago.
I felt something come onto me. I felt that presence that I long for.
It felt good.
Then I went to sleep.
Saturday, Sept. 10, 2005
7:06 p.m.
7:06 p.m.