2003-03-28 - 8:29 p.m.

i wish things werent so permanent. i wish they were washable like markers but they are sharpies and the page is filled with it.

im not okay and that is okay with me. i dont like the alone-ness but i dont like the emptiness of this fucking place either.

so i dive head first into memories that are fading with the wash cycle, and i try to restore them with the gentle cycle, making up things that might have happened if.

with the desparity comes anger and with anger comes unanswerable questions.

blank stares and pushing, i find my place. back in that house. back in that room.

i remember the night i went out to get gas, and came back with the story with that cutie paying for my pump. you laughed, oh how you laughed. then we watched temptation island...because we didnt like that girl. and we wanted to see her cry.

i remember being at rachels on that next tuesday. channel surfing. until a little blonde welled with tears appeared on the screen. and i cried with her. you didnt get to see her sad, you didnt get to see me sad either.

i wonder what we would be doing tonight, since it is your birthday and all. maybe eating ice cream or going out to dinner.

but tonight i eat my cake alone, and whisper happy birthday to a picture framed on the wall.

happy birthday.