deathly

my hands are so cold right now. i feel this morning's coffee going up my throat. if i don't smoke the day away i am afraid i'll blow a fuse and run the summer of 2004 all over again. i guess i'll just withdraw for a while, and just put up the long-held unsent i had wanted to put up here:

"m., i may not understand what the silence is all about, but i just want you to know that whatever it is that's going on in your head, i respect it. when you know what you want, maybe i'll still be here."