||[Sep. 14th, 2003|06:47 pm]
Sometimes late at night I sit in the corner of my room, smoking a cig with my window up just thinking. Usually about nothing in particular, what I ate today, a funny thought, or trying to figure out the meaning of life. I would sit for hours and just wonder. My family always said that I talk too much. What they don’t understand is that I don’t talk to anybody all day and only want someone to listen to me. I have all of these ideas and stories, but no one cares. So here writing, I can let it all spill and if someone does not want to listen, they can close this book or skip to the next chapter.