andrea despite the choice i consciously made there are nights when i sit here, all alone, in the dark room whose the chill hangs on my bones long after i've gone to bed, with only the screen to light my thoughts, my fingers as they drift sporadically across the keyboard, and i read words written in haste, in boredom, in randomness, in having nothing else to say...and i think, "how is it possible for someone to penetrate my mind like that? for them to so violate me by putting my thoughts, my feelings, my words, my fears out for the world to see without telling me first??" but then i realize it is not an intended violation, but simply a coincidence, the parallel lives clashing into one another on blue screen. and this makes me want to cry for her. i hear my hopes resound in the words she spills night after night. and i sometimes feel my heart split at the accuracy of which her life coincides with me, note for note, tear for tear. it kills me to know i had a hand in her unhappiness only because i know how i feel about those that have caused me to feel this way about myself, my life. and i resent myself, loathe myself, for ever turning into them. but what's a girl to do??

copyright 2000
A Who's gonna read all that shyte? I sure didn't. I don't think you'll have to worry about anyone infringing on your "copyright". 031130
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