• I am a fact for my own doubt, swallowing a pill that clouds my judgment and realizing that even though death is cruel, it is quiet and it brings out my sanity. Yet, the coward clown in me comes apart -- ripping out the insides to feast on the guts of a depraved saint. Though that is something I will never become. I won't be nailed on a cross, I won't be stoned, nor piled apart in a fire-pit -- nothing.

    I watched Ponyo the other day, regarding as a happy girl skipped and control the world through child's essence. I am content at times and then worse at times, I can see the world through rose-colored glasses or through shades of graying shadows. I am poetic to a sense that this is the real me, writing and never sure of herself with water ever flowing in a glass that has been broken into a thousand pieces. I can't write simple words anymore because there is nothing truly simple ever. Ever step is like Ponyo, wobbling, unfocused, and not a care in the world.

    For now, I will close myself off to a point that I will be careful again. Sometimes skeletons in the closet are the closest thing to a friend that you can embrace. Becoming a gale in my sleep so that when I open by eyes to a cold breeze, I will see the empty sockets staring back at me. On the outside it is easy to adore and worship Hello Kitty and a great deal on the inside to let my mind sleep in a starless sky.

    I think I can imagine us as a coin sometimes. Heads or tails -- it doesn't matter which.

    We both hurt ourselves, pretend things are okay, hide everything inside, strive for something but find road blocks.

    I can only say one thing now that I am wake up in the morning and I see one thing as I look at the sun rising. In this understanding and this honest outcome --

    ...I’m free.