Tuesday, July 16, 2002

From The Starlet, who wrote me a fantastic letter:
"On the depression scale, if 1 is fine and 10 is dead, then I am a 4 right now."

I have been wasting time at work all morning, searching other blogs, picking my nose, thinking thinking thinking.

It isn't fair to have to do this again, he whispered in her ear. She was a stone in his arms. I can't live with you like this. I can't breathe around you. He kissed her temple, got up, and left. She stayed on the bed. Even existing sometimes, she thought to him, even being alive, hurts. But her mouth couldn't move to bring him back. He forgot to look at her lips to see how broken they were.