It has come to my attention that I have a problem/problems to deal with at the moment, and that I'm not dealing with it very well. Friday became Saturday became Sunday became Monday became Tuesday, and this week five days became one blur I'll never get back. This is nothing new. And this is what is a pain.

Empires have been built on excess. Name me one empire in all of history, that did not fall apart.

This is a stream of subconsciousness:

This is the one thing I have which keeps me from feeling as old as I really am, and I'll be damned if I let you take it from me in one night. But does she even know how much she's torn you apart and left you scrambling to re-join the pieces? No, but this whole thing is testament to how she hit my life like a fucking hurricane, and how I'm still stuck on her, even now. Months have passed and I'm still here, talking about her like she's God when she doesn't even really know that she's anything to me, let alone everything.

Sounds like you need help. Tell me about it. I know it's not right, how I think and project sometimes. Certain films are meant to be cautionary tales, not semi-documentaries, and certain songs are meant to be melodrama, not biography.

Like them, their words and songs. Too right. And this is where the irony sleeps, that a band we both seperately lived through in our fragile headstrong youths is bringing us together in our fragile heartbroken adulthoods, just a few years too late. I know that every word we sing together will cut through me like a knife, and while I know my little sister will be there to hold me together, (and I thank something or someone every day that I've found her and she'll be there to hold my hand when I need her to) I still know that I'll be torn to shreds come the night.

Look at this, another tribute to how much you've gutted me, and how much I want you to step in and be my lungs that breathe and my heart that beats, even now.

I shouldn't be allowed out the house, people ruin me.