I spent the rest of my waking night sad and feeling sorry for myself
I found myself staring at the crumpled, decrepit pieces of paper lying on my desk for minutes on end...
Into space, out of sight, out of mind.
Listening to Romantic Rights, not quite here, not quite there.

Left boredom to sulk. not a good trade off.
But which one is better
boredom....or sorrow?

in boredom
there often
lies hatred
in sorrow
there often
lies a circumference of depression

but hatred and depression
are two very different things
one is full of passion, or opinion,
and the other is quite oposite,
a void of no feeling at all.
Presence verses Absence
i assume presence is the keeper
of course i chose absence

in the case though, where i would chose presence,
i believe it would be, in reality,
a continuation of the hatred, but in my sulkiness i find myself daydreaming of the other
road to be better than absence,
anything is better than absence
anything is better than depression, even if it's hatred
anything is better than the void, even if it's far to passionate,
too judgmental

what's better than passion?

it's dark and hot out, and i'm all out of beer to cool me down.
i guess i'll make a run to the store