JANUARY 10, 2007
This is how you made me.
After all this time, your slight nod would be enough to awaken a dormant volcano. While foot soldiers march toward their doom looking death in the eye, I scamper at the slightest strut of affection. To loose sleep because of you is ridiculous, that is why I forbid you to enter my dreams.
Living in the same sky, I know that the possibility of bumping into you again is high. I beg you to give me back my autobiography. I never should have shown in to you in the first place if I knew that it would be for keeps.