I don't know why I do the majority of anything. Words I say or more often the words I don't say, the music I read and books I listen to. The complex, fucked and twisted way I purposely make things. All in an attempt to lose you. You're still there. Every fucking cell reeks of you and the seed that once was is dead long gone. You. You are a part of me. Not that 'better half' cliche bullshit. The vermin that eats my soul little by little. I never used to be mean. I never knew. I never pushed anyone away. My ignorance and innocence shatterd and replaced by compassion and a broken rose-colored lens. I see what really goes on. I'm not gorgeous or saccharine sweet. I have a voice and I'm learning how to use it. I am only human and though I'm not as powerful or wealthy or fucking attractive, I have determination. I will make a difference. [Insert sketches of veins here] That's what you get during a free morning period.