in my dreams i box in England, street fight in Ireland, and sleep in the bed that was promised. i would kill myself if i was worried about honor. i've just recently started thinking "what the hell was i thinking?" which brings about an interesting question: which thought is correct? the thought i was thinking before, or the one i'm thinking now. at both times, i thought my thinking was sound.

how can you flip a switch? my love grows and dies very slowly. the dying part is especially painful. i can never seem to win. i've been dangerously depressed for quite some time now. i'm very close to leaving here.

my roomate is so annoying i stab him in his sleep from my bottom bunk with imaginary swords. if i didn't have Led Zeppelin and Pearl Jam, i seriously think i would explode. and i like how my stomach is in tune with my feelings. it's always fucked up. but it makes sense. we wouldn't want me to physically be ok when my mind and emotions are shattered. it just wouldn't be right. ow. it really hurts. does this answer your question to why i didn't eat? i should have just said 'fuck it' in ireland and been a bastard. it's a shame i follow the code. i could be a great villian if it wasn't for that. the sister could have eavsdropped on my sunday lunch conversation, but does it really matter? not anymore. that reminds me...i have to buy him new headphones. damn. if i was thinking better, i could have used the trip money to get a les paul. shit. fuck. damn. why is it i'm always considered a friend? i really think my stomach has holes in it. or a baby dragon that feeds on my organs. how the fuck did a baby dragon get in my stomach? must have been hiding in some mashed potatoes. tricky bastard.