2001-10-04 - 10:32 p.m.
so my mom wants me to scrape all of the acrylic paint out from under my fingernails from art. for tommorow. i really dont feel like it. my fingers are more chewed up than usual. its been a tough week. tommorow really means nothing to me. people around me are hurting, and theres not a damn thing i can do. or maybe it is, and im just to dense to realize it. i think im dense. i want to be so much more. i want to be so much for the people i care about and the ones that care about me. i want to be more attentive, and clear. i need so much more clarity. i think we all do. i want to be a better friend. i want to be more approachable. i dont want shy people to by shy around me. im nothing special. i just want peace. i want everyone to feel it, because it feels so damn nice. no one else has ever told me that they have ever been at peace. i want to help.
sam just asked me to help. he wants help on his national merit scholarship essay. the genius wants my help. i want to help.
i need to write more. i dont want to. i should write a book. i should do something, and make a lot of money, so he wont be scared. so he wont have to worry. so we can be safe, together. bah, fuck money. fuck everything that could keep him unhappy. i want to run away. i us to be safe.
