I don’t feel bad about doing nothing but thats not my problem. You won’t answer, I’m not answering. This time of year shouldn’t make me feel this way, but it does. That heavy feeling in my chest isn’t nothing. Its something and its making me sick. I couldn’t move if I wanted to. And somehow it always ends up like this. I can’t wait until I can be whole and happy but look back.
The Teller
I'm nothing like this in real time, I'm nothing like what I want to be and I don't know what I want to be. I can tell you the difference between life and art and I can scream your name if thats what you please. I'm not a big fan of this, I watch too much tv and rarely read the last page of novels or novelettes. You interest me.
I examine the meaning of dreams, lifes follies, and what my heart tells me.


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