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2001-12-05 - 12:07 a.m. I'm sorry I haven't been writing. Some things just don't belong here. Some words, no matter how I try, can't be contained on a page, whether hidden in the pages of my small blue velvety journal or broadcast to the world on the simple black-on-white of this diary. Some thoughts are more important than that. They don't live in writing but in my voice and in the eyes and ears of some very specific people. And no matter how many other ears they have hit and will hit, they will not be content until they get to where they are supposed to be. But the eyes and ears that these words are reaching for aren't around lately to receive them. And if they were, I still might not be ready to release them. It's like the only thing more frightening about finding a void deep in your soul is the prospect of trying to refill it and failing, and knowing it will never be filled. I know what I need, I know why I hurt and have hurt for so long. But I don't know if I can get it or ever will. Until I'm ready to try, I'll write, I'll draw, and I'll sing my way through it. Maybe I won't collapse from the stress. Maybe I will. These words need to get out before they destroy me. But letting them out could hurt just as much. So until then, I'm letting the music speak for me. The soundtrack of my life says all I need to and more. It's not the most original of lists, two of the songs even have the same title. But these are the songs from my CD collection that mean it all right now. Most of you can probably figure it out from here, if you can't, I'm sorry, I can't say more right now. It hurts. And I've never been so scared. Soundtrack
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