2006-02-05 - 12:26 a.m.

will surely turn me into a ridiculously withered mess. skin hanging off of my ribs, a puddle of flesh, a pile of bones. a coccoon, a blanket of thought covering my body leaves me useless for when he returns.

perhaps i will hide in the bathtub all day. or build a tent and read inside until my eyes sink back into their sockets. maybe i'll watch the snow melt off of the car tops as the day progresses. i could eat my rice one grain at a time, one per minute. sixty grains of rice could pass an hour. times flies when you're having fun. staring at the computer could provide hours of entertainment; screenglow will burn my retinas. or maybe i will take all of the keys off of the keyboard and replace them as i see fit.

tomorrow seems promising.
i will sleep through it.
i hate when you're away.

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