2004-01-29, 9:23 p.m.
I don't think i could ever grow out our of childish lies or playing pretend. Thinking about sickly hot summer nights out on the patio deck.
sodapop dreams.
sunflowers in bloom.
sticky faced adventures.
and I miss the days of Yore.
When we were small, and problems were smaller.
When planning trysts or thoughts of wooing girls were so fucking far out of our minds that cooties were an epidemic.
when pretty words from her pretty head meant more than pillow talk.
When we thought fucking would mean more than just fucking.
And these days it's always the same words for a different rhyme it seems.
same wishes for the proverbial well.
And I know it's going to change, but waiting for something So fucking riveting, so fucking spellbinding is still only waiting.
And I guess what I'm trying to say is, minute by minute, and day by day, I think I'm loosing any hold I ever had on reality.