This Used To Be Me

23.08.2003 - 21.20
why am I crying?

I listened to her voice on the phone, exploding with life, but still slightly resembling the measured-but-honeyed touch I first heard from a girl who was really a woman back when I was still the boy I am now. She asked me my story and I gave her the typical, concise version of the past few months, which she took in without a second thought and not the slightest hint of indicators about herself.

Finally after twenty minutes of awkward noodling, I asked her what her story was. She said it was somewhere in Eastern Europe, and at that point, I decided I wasn't going to bother picking my jaw up off the floor anymore and just let it sit there and die with the rest of me as I wondered just exactly what the fuck motivated her to talk to me in the first place.

I wonder now if so many months of idle nonexistence have made me incapable of living. I can't even work up the intelligence to tell you exactly what happened, which means you probably have no idea why I feel so sad and scared and confused.

then - soon

25.09.2003-Epilogue.

01.09.2003-

30.08.2003-Exeunt, the Moor.

28.08.2003-why?

27.08.2003-Last night, and august in general.