36. Nothing left

1:01 p.m. & Saturday, Jun. 17, 2006

What do you do when there�s nothing left to keep you coming back?

I want to remember What takes a lifetime to forget

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I am me. Nothing more, nothing less. I write. I don?t write beautiful things. I write about things that happen to me. Things that come from my soul. Deep inside me. This is my life. This is my angst. This is my happiness. This is my joy. This is my sorrow, and my pain. I don?t consider myself a 'poet' in any manner. I consider myself a struggling teen just trying to get by in life. I've only a few things left to hold onto. And writing is one of those...

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