Aaron i live in a world beyond madness. voices in my head and music in my soul.
it's torment.
it's extacy.
it's all that used to be me.
in my world hell is a vacation.
my soul, that is, my self have been torn apart. lots of little bits floating about with the people i love, and the some of the same people are the people i hate. you see i fight with my self. i've lost my voice i this crowd. i can't speak up for my self. people think i'm a chump. i'm not. i watch everything that goes on, i know every move, but i don't care. i'm not a mute. i just have nothing to say. does that make me a tool, something to be used by others? nope. i'm just suffering from heartbreak. see also: Aaron Rinne and posibly jesus
birdmad ...all i ever wanted

...have to get away
sykoze i think i will go to llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch 010828
kelli crane can't prove that Rusty... 020115
lemonlizzles it's funny how on the first few days of break, you have to get together in these giant swarms of people. you go to planet follywood and play kickball on the beach, you smile and allow saltwater to drip off of your chin when you catch a wave next to one of the cute guys and it doesn't matter, for a few moments, that the german girl looks good in a bikini. you walk downtown at night and smoke in cars in dim parking lots until the streetlights sift through the milky air inside and you lose yourself in the swelling in her laughter.
gradually, you lose momentum, sleeping and puttering around in your pajamas all day before meeting your best friend at night, piling into her petite burgundy car and driving through the impregnated rain, the booming thunder, to a dim spot in the brush on the beach. you smoke in the rain, and she dons a ski cap and scarf, and you don't worry about the headlights blurred through water trickling down the grass because the sound of rain on the roof is just so beautiful, and, besides, you have cheetoes.
eventually, you've mellowed out, and you're in the country with your family and a girl named ellen, who is drawing in your sketchbook on the bed next to you, and you're contemplating sneaking another bowl. there are sketches on your walls; the two of you emptied out your art portfolio and plastered it to the wall with duct tape to liven up the room. the bugs were biting when you went out on the dock to smoke tonight, but the reflection of those stars on the water tangled whisps of sentimentality about you like seaweed, and the moon still had not risen when the two of you slouched in the couch, the light glow of a television across your nighttime faces.
misstree does it still count if you quit your job to get it? 020413
minnesota_chris Short vacations build me up, and the long vacations destroy me. 030422
Deomis I'm taking a vacation from blather.

I need to stop thinking.
that's what it is.
monee i know that one, deomis. 041207
what's it to you?
who go