July 21, 2007.

There is little left other than some words and some pictures,
this is shit.

A lot of people are gone, they got husbands and wives, and new jobs, and fancy cars.
But i'm still here. It's not much, but it's what i've got.

I guess it is working towards the only thing that ever really felt like you,
not because you were not great at other things but because this is the only thing
that really seemed to have a positive effect,
and not ruin everything.

I really fucking need to talk. ---

With our hands around each others' throats, we could really get to like one another.

Communicating and collaborating on documents that somehow are more of a home
or a quiet place to hang your head than we will ever know.

Isn't this what we've been talking about for years?