12.June.2004

I suppose I should finally just tell you, Diaryland.

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I don't have to dress up, leave a false name, nor be legendary. But I am.

Diaryland, I have to tell you something.

I'm breaking up with you.

No, no, don't worry, I'm still around; in fact, you could probably find me easily. But, I'm moving. It's over.

Here's what you're missing not being anywhere near me, kittens:

I found a career; it's starting swimmingly.
My heart is no longer taking out the garbage; it is, however, on fire. In the best way.
All of my new bushels of cronies are ridiculously intelligent and horribly complementary to my caprice.
I have money all of the time.
Did I mention my heart is on fire?

Sure, there's drama. Emotional triangles and insurance bills, but, that's to be expected when you, you know, leave the house on a fairly regular basis and actually enter society.

My mother is, however, going back into the hospital, but this is a simple procedure that should eliminate all of her medical quandaries, and, for that, I am not worried. I will keep you lot updated since you've been a very wonderful boyfriend to me.

And so, I kept saying, There exists someone on this planet who can appreciate my passion, my idiosyncrasies, my talents, and, well, my skin. I didn't think that I would find it in seven individuals simultaneously.

Should I crash, I won't tell you, because I'm quite sure I'll still be grinning my PJ Harvey asymmetrical grin all the way into the ground.

And some things are just better left unsaid.

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time & machine