2004-06-21
I Don't Believe You
hearing: Last Goodbye - Jeff Buckley
reading: Middlemarch by George Eliot
wearing: jeans, pink velour hoodie, pink shirt, black belt, black wristwarmer
A little girl sits hunched into a ball, sobs choked in her throat, and tears rolling down her face. The darkness is devouring her as she stares through blurred vision at the papers scattered and crumpled on the floor and she whispers bitterly,
"I don't believe you anymore."
And she says it again...louder...then withers down into fits of uncontrollable sobbing.
I am feeling so emaciated. This stupid flu is sucking all the energy from my tiny body with barely a hint of fat stored to burn during deficiencies like this.
The kitten is doing well at least. Earlier...
Oh fuck this.
Fuck all of it.
I don't want to write.
I'm through.