marge

So it begins.

Again.

I became Anne Ominous for a reason. To escape kabuki, and all that she entailed. To breathe. To be anonymous.

I will never again attempt any form of candidness in the text of this site . . . or any other, I think. It is always a complete and utter failure.


This shall become like all the others . . . ephemeral, impersonal, and riddled with elliptical non-sense. Why do I always forget that there is something lurking at the other end of the void? That pouring life out to strangers and the strange is never without a catch?

I'll live my life in half-truths and lies to protect the innocent and lies to protect the guilty.


I don't exist.


So here was my night: I ate some good food. I went to a party. I saw people. Lots of people. Said "hi" to some of them. There was a band. People drank. I had three and a half beers. My stomach hurts. Hope the kidney thing isn't coming back. I have to work in the morning. Work sucks. I've been listening to a lot of Dashboard Confessional. Don't ask me why, all their songs sound the same. Well, I'm going to go to bed. Night kids.