Combat Zone

dirtylittlepig @ 6:28pm: what is it like to be you
free to be in the sun and the trees
without need
to be something more than human

funkstar @ 5:15pm: i am almost tempted to take the subway and ride it through all the stops. and then back again.
almost.

funkstar @ 5:12pm: dear diary, i woke up. i ate. i waited for a story to come out from the shadows. there was only silence.

funkstar @ 8:03pm: setting down words in the electronic medium is a bit like indulging your sweet tooth with a low-fat, low-cal dessert item. not quite the real thing. the smell of paper. the scratch of the pen's nib against a firm yet supple surface. i miss it. but it seems that i do not miss it enough to commit myself to writing in a paper journal again.
wake up by the arcade fire almost breaks my heart.
but my heart does break easy.
heart of glass, heart of stone. a heart made for the bittersweet ache. that is what falling in love is like. knowing that you are losing control and simply not caring. i want the music to stream down the walls like a waterfall.
i want to stand up and move, the rhythm flowing through my blood like a virus...
will you burn? will i burn? i want to. i must. i would much rather burn out, a brilliant stab of light in the neverending dark.
why fade? no, cannot fade. must not.
yes, i want my heart to break for how else will i know i am alive.