All names are made up (except for the band members) in order to protect peoples identities. Spelling and grammar are of little importance. If you are anal, it is highly recommended that you not read further. This diary is protected by the FBI.

I read phone books for fun; I lost interest in dictionaries sometime ago.

I write lyrics for songs, but they somehow get lost from here to there.

I contemplate life, almost every day. Yet I still don�t get it.

I am so wonderfully happy, yet I�m always sad.

I feel empty when alone, and filled up when crowded.

I lose myself in thought way too often.

I�m home sick, but don�t want to go home.

I cry all the time, but there aren�t any tears.

My life is so full, I have no time.

Time doesn�t give a fuck when I need to breathe.

There�s laundry and vacuuming and bacon to be made.

Speaking of bacon, I think mine�s collecting mold.

Now I have to accept the fact that my only child is a cat.

I�m surprised I�m not in jail for neglect.

I worry way too much about things other people don�t care about.

I just spent eight dollars on food my cat won�t eat.

I feel musically restricted and utterly retarded.

Not mentally handicapped, just stuck.

I�m pouring out more on this damned diary, then I have to the fucking world.

Ironically the whole world can read it.

I�ve had way too much caffeine, and I�ve been up since four A.M.

I�m exhausted, but I can�t stop my mind.

Stop. Rewind.

Rinse. Repeat.

Yellow means slow down.

Green means go.

PEDS Xing

What the fuck is a PED!!!!

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out�..