||[Aug. 13th, 2004|09:12 pm]
She picks up the knife... |
looking all around at the molecules that make up her complete, yet tattered memory, trying to convince herself that it's worth it, and that it isn't worth living.
The wasted days:
time that means nothing.
"Just run the blade across your skin for the last time. Why cant you do it? ...because your a fucking pussy."
All of this means nothing.
Just molecules, just colors, just waves...
The point of this destruction?
...to prove to them how pointless and empty it all is.
"Is she crazy?"
The only thing left in her "heart" is a set of numbers, of time, which again is .nothing.
It's all that matters.
You could spend your life doing this...
.wondering where it all goes.
She'd rather not waste time, which once again, is nothing.
If time is nothing, .this.won't.matter.
c a p t i o n . t o . a . m a r g i n :