dear diary IV.

march 11, 2008

dear diary,

it's not easy being green.

i set up two pictures in a corner in the warehouse that eerily resemble us in my mind today. maybe it'll counteract how, ya know, delusional i am when staring at you, being around you, etc. well a figurative you. not you-- you're paper.

why do people do that? why do we use our belongings in this specific way to figure out what's going on in our own heads? it seems kinda like this adverse way of being invasive with things that can't, like, get all offended or something. our tangible items that don't display any type of brain power. these things that can only sit where we place them until we're ready to pick them up again, to then place them down again for them to just sit and collect dust for us to continue the cycle. ughhh why am i discussing my inhabitable craving for your eyes to just maybe hit my glance instead of only swimming in my train of thought, with sheets of bound paper? i couldn't tell you (the figurative you), but i guess i could tell me (which i suppose is you too, diary) but only if it's written in here because it's only possible for me to, ya know, get a better understanding of myself if i discuss my ideals on paper.

so pathetic.

anyway you're over there completely entranced by everything else but moi and it's all, like, getting to me and stufffffffff.

gosh, i must only make sense to myself and sixteen year old girls.

love,

jack