wednesday terminal C 6:45

on days, with lavish arid feels to them, dropping int he pits of stomachs, the feeling of being a wet dog and i'm asked why this or how that and i shudder onward.

so i'm trying, the best i know how, to cope with what may end up being the end of me, and hoping god grades on a curve. the what now is on it's way in flurries (wrestled from the sky like snowflakes).

i'm just here, surviving barely at all just now but alright as far as things go.

2004-03-04 | 11:59 a.m.
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