Nov. 25, 2003 @ 9:32 p.m.

Reoccurring thoughts are forcing me to semi-verbalize them by writing them down, setting them into a little rougher and somewhat more permanent form of semi-preservation, because the words are only here for those who dare to read, to use their brain for more than life’s candied and assorted sugar coated events. The day is rising, where everything will come to together; nothing will be out of place. Throughout times and life, events, people, relationships, moods, random imperfections and timing have slightly fallen out of line like a mini earthquake in the wake destiny’s uproar. In my life, I feel like everything is just a little faster than fat, heaving, overweight, out-of-shape Destiny. Well, I just signed her away to a 12-step recovery program with hopes of fixing the unbeautification, sloppy habits, late arrivals and bad judgements. I will give Desinty a watch and accompanying itinerary. I will shed her love handles, dye and trim her hair, recoat the coating of plastic on her nails and restyle her closet’s drapery. Soon, if Destiny listens to the training, the verbalization of the epitome of character fault, everything will fall into place like a prerecorded track of a perfectionist harmony, to be played on repeat, over and over, just like the memory of the one night she’ll have with me.