i_am_a_weirdo i suck As I rode to work this morning the rain suddenly reminds me of my heart, place of perpetual winter.” I though I could work this in to a poem, a genuine poem. The only problem is that to have a genuine poem it must come from the heart but my heart is dead…that is, it longs for feelings. I have no one to love and subsequently no one to hurt for. Sometimes I think I have become so desperate that I wish for some one to come along and fuck me over so bad, only so that I can feel anything. I think that’s the most pathetic thing anyone can feel. 050722 ... *Amy* why is that I can`t trust anyone?? I can`t believe anything that anyone say to me, I cannot believe you Tommy, I`m sorry, but a little mistake makes me think that anything is genuine and I end fearing you, and falling apart from you. it happens with everyone and I will end only on my own in this world 050722 what's it to you? who go blather from