I should write better things here.

Like this…
(Apr/22/03)
I hope you’re happy, because I’m sad, and we have to keep a balance.

& This…
(Jan/21/03)
Join me in my bed. I’ll be waiting. Let’s lay nude & curl our legs around each other; Touch me accidentally. That’s all I want. Let’s rape my sheets & new duvet. Make them pay.

& Sure, even this:
(May/05/03)
Today I have to go up to my Dad’s & use Kyle’s printer. The covers I made for my mom’s CD aren’t coming out right! The front cover is good enough. I’ll leave it alone. But the back cover? It has issues. I wonder if I can use that to explain our relationship.

But I don’t! This site rarely sees anything I consider remotely good. I never write heartfelt — stuff — here! Anything that’s ever ended up here that meant something to me was composed elsewhere. Livejournal, deardiary, notepad, my bed.. The bath! Maybe I’d like to be anywhere but here? Haha come on now! My writing style depends on the audience. Not to mention the writing I choose to be an audience to.

Whatever that means. The more people read — Or I guess I should say: The more people I think are reading, the worse my writing gets.

I feel this post to be useless, too. I just don’t have any epiphanies to share outside of myself. And I don’t like to be personal here.

I have 6 blogs & they all serve different purposes. I’ve been using this one the longest & I still don’t know what I’m doing with it.