"Ask the angels why their fallin."
Wednesday, Nov. 05, 2003 at 11:28 p.m.
This is where I write about how I feel. How empty and hollow my insides are. And how any little thing can tigger my emotions. Every poke has the possibility of causing me to cry.
This is where Im going to tell you that there really is no hope for me. Not at times like this, not when im unpredictable even to myself.
Not when Im almost to hell im so down that I cant even manage to cry.
And this is how I tell you of all the things I want. To be happy. I want to be a paramedic and I want to be a writer. But with this sorry excuse of what I call talent I never will be. Never will my pen grace a page and fill it with beautiful magical words that take people away. How other real writers do for me.
Never will I be smart enough to be able to help people in their time of need. To rush to a scene in matter of seconds and dry their tears telling them I have saved the day. But never taking credit for it.
And to be happy - thats just to much to ask for.
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