January 21, 2002
Fuck the world I’ve arrived, the depression is over

I’d rather spend my time documenting dreams to come back to one day. Build for me no path to follow for I will make my own. Build for me no song to sing for I’m capable of doing my own. I can paint without numbers and speak without wonder. I’ve been to hell and back, trust me, its no place to build a path. I seek the unsought unveiling his creations of silence… to better fill the cups made of pebbles, believing clouds need not burst if paths are not visibly first.