Despondent

" He still thinks of her, and I still think of him. But is it really the same thing? "


When life gives you shit, sell it as fertilizer.


But what if -- what if the crap just keeps piling up and you have no one else to sell it to? Can you honestly keep-up the pace of giving your troubles away through the little emencies of life over and over again? I'll be leaving sometime this summer vacation. I'm happy cause' I'm leaving, and yet I'm not cause' I'm leaving everything else I've known behind me; tucked into the little corner of blurriness that has become my memory.

I've been lying to myself for so long, denying the possibilities and emotions which I have kept hidden for such a despondent amount of time. A friend of mine has claimed to have changed, but have I? And if I did, was it for myself or for others?

I'm sure I am still the same Jeanne that first passed through the hallways of highschool and shook the hands of her first few friends. And yet, I can't help but acknowledge that nagging sensation that says otherwise.