how_old_are_all_these_people me they all talk about life, and how they have loved and lost. they all seem to know so much. and i dont. i feel like crying, for no real reason. dammit, i read all the things people write here, and it makes me sad. but in a good way. i wish i could talk to them. i wish i could make them feel better. i wish i could do something. make a difference in someones life. all i seem to do is just exist. the only people who seem to notice me are my family. but i should be thankful i at least have those right? 021201 ... girl_jane I notice... 021201 ... wannabe poet i feel the exact same way. i read all these beutiful and heartfelt poem, words of advice, and whinning and i feel like i have no right to interfere with such a beutiful organism as blather. but at the same time i realise that i must add to it or it will rust and crumble with disuse because if i start then nothing stops others from stopping, so i guiltily add my piece of nonsence and carefully expose a bit of my sole to the masses. 021201 ... wannbe poet and hopefully get some words spelled right 021201 ... The Spork come, blathe, speak. no guarantee that all will speak kindly of your words, but no sure thing that rudeness will befall you either. 021201 ... blather string how_old_are_you average_blatherers_age 021202 ... me 17 031130 what's it to you? who go blather from