It's getting darker earlier then it used too. The same thing happens every year...but...it's getting darker earlier and all the metaphores are falling down into my mind. In that way, and that way only do I wish that it was still high summer. I guess a lot of people post ode's to summer and freedom and happiness and friends and sand...but I'm a little too old and a little too jaded to do that. Let me explain...yes, I know that I'm only 15. But in order to truly love summer and to write an ode that means something and touches people...you have to be at the end of that summer before you enter high school. Or at least I was. Maybe I wrote something, maybe I didn't. Probably not. And even if I did I would never subject you too it. I'm in full knowledge of my limited writing abilities. In any case...summer has faded, and I don't believe that I miss it. Maybe it's just that it's darker and the nights are colder but the only thing I miss is a certain young gentleman. I send you my love, darling. ***************************************************************** It's fitting that this travasty took place in autumn. It's the time for change and your words and the echos of the screams wander through this house, devoid of true life in the way that memories are devoid of life. It's just small emotions. Small cuts to the soul. The gold band around my thumb feels like a weight dragging me down...keeping me in this pit of false faces and falser words. I guess in all simplicity it was just a fight. But you hurt me and you bribed me and the gold is warm on my skin but cold on my heart. Not that anyone cares. Leave it to me to hide the way things are from everyone who knows me...but have few conflicts about posting it on a journal site...public to all who care to read it. No, that's a lie...George knows...because he can read me like a book and the second he said hello I told him. Colin knows...but he doesn't care. My love knows, and though he cares...he's not able to do anything about it at this junction. But I digress. The trees outside my window don't matter because it's getting cold and the sunlight is fading into darkness. I'm shivering my way through the days and the nights are the same. Call me morbid, call me dark...do as you wish. Call me small-minded..tell me that other people are worse off. That's probably true. But I don't know them...and I'm not fake enough to say that I can feel real emotion for people that I've never met, or talked to, or even acknowledged, and will never meet, talk to...though I acknowledge more then I let on. Let's pretend like I can remember more about this then the last entry. No...that's misleading...let me rephrase...Let's pretend like I'm willing to remember more then what is in the last entry. My advice to myself, you ask? Cheer up emo kid.