May 8th, 2002 - 11:37 p.m.

This has been a complete waste of time.

Woke up with a sense of general neglect. Trodden upon, sans apology. These people shuffling off to jobs. Bloodless.

During her sleep, a little demon came along touting an axe, and made belief that the spine was wood, and it a lumberjack. "Timber!!!" it hollered with glee in the left ear.

It has been impermanently concluded that the majority of human interaction is merely an elaborate process of professing adieu. And sadness stems from either an inability to bid farewell, or being cast out before one wishes.

If she were a hopeless romantic, she would quickly pen a flowery letter. All apologies and submission. Wrap it in a handkerchief, hand embroidered with strawberries, smelling of lily of the valley. But she is not, so instead shall have to allow others to think that this grimace is a smile, some type of recognition. She will not change for anyone, dears. Nor shall she be out of character in order to satisfy. So, pff.

N.

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