Waiting for what? Waitin for twat 8th grade me asks. Well, just waiting. I don't like to hurry but for when everything in me spills out and I need it now. I tried to buy a diary today. There were no coincidences today. There were no diaries at this shitty Art store, and I am on again off again, and the only thing I'm rushing home to is a different love in an unfeeling house. I finally shoved something inside my rotten little body. I've been quiet for days. Some might threaten, too quiet. I am shutting all of my holes: to breathing, eating, singing, shitting. I am a near empty glob of no exits, no entrances. Even my words have no place to go. That was my diary entry.
