Your hands know me better than your mind ever could. I wish I could make you see how much power you have over me. Those gentle palms are smooth as stone but your words are twice as sharp as the knife you dug into my heart. Today was freezing cold. Walking down Cary Street with only a light jaket and scarf made me see how frigid it must be in my chest cavity. I can't wait until I am able to leave this place. This house where no one ever says what they mean. I need my own apartment down in the city. In the shops today, I pretended I was looking for furnishings to decorate the loft apartment I so desperatly want. I know I sound ungrateful, and I apologize for being whiney. I am thankful for the warm home I have. There are so many homeless people down in the city. It's so sad to see them, cold and emaciated, and begging for change for a cup of coffee. It makes me want to give them all I have. But I know if I do they will only use it for drugs or alocohol; things to help them forget how their lives turned out. I'd be doing more harm than good. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I hope my friend and I can mend things. I don't think she knows how much she means to me. I miss her. I think I've been misled. I don't believe my eyes. It's so obvious now, it sickens me. Why did I not see it before? I'm too accepting. I'm too eager to see the good in people. But what if there is no good? What if it's all a facade? Is there anything that's true anymore? Is there anything that's real?