September 06, 2005
It's times like these where I feel like a piece of paper. Used, stretched thin, recycled. I'm about to fall to pieces, about to cut the one around. It's now I see the diaphaneity of the mask. Yet there's a certain tenacity within. Stuck in this moment where I push and stay still. I want to fall apart then get picked up and put together, like a piece of paper, but the intellectual hubris says no.
The real ones don't seem real. Hurt only the best and now there's the risk of losing it all.
-playing pieces of me - ashlee simpson
+..all cried out..+ . [6:18 AM