Oct. 06, 2003 @ 4:42 p.m.

No one knows the chorus and verse the way you do. Because you wrote the words, you poured your heart onto the floor amidst a dirty, smoke filled recording studio, with bored board ops and long, expensive hours. You sang the words to your song. No one would use those same words, even in a different order, more intently than you. When I sit down to write, I have to think, wait for the moment when my fingers begin typing the thoughts in my head as they gather to form metaphors and similes that make up my daily writing. It’s the only time anyone can see exactly what I’m thinking but even to do that, they have to be watching over my shoulder and I don’t allow that. But you, your words hide from no one and that’s what makes them so boldly daring to be expressive in every sense that I could never do anything but dream to be. Except hidden away on the internet, hiding behind pseudo names of false happiness when all I really want is for someone to notice. Someone to tell me I’m as good as you. No one knows the words that I write as well I. No one knows the chorus to my song as well as you. Thank you for noticing, please stay and thrash about in my mindful loneliness. Then I realized we're the same, I noticed I was holding my own hand, walking with myself.