May 5th, 2014

This is the end, my only friend, the end.

What I wrote in this again? What if I began writing. Haphazardly throwing up words and meanings and sentences like they fucking mean things again. Carving what I think of the world on the internet. For them to never, ever wash away. I find my old worlds from ten years ago, still floating around. And I think, "Wow. That was good for what it was." That was ten years ago?

That was ten years ago. This is what it's like to age.