July 2, 2000: Fizzy and bewildered
A head that hurts, a stomach that remains quizzed…forget the throat, I destroyed it years ago screaming at life passing by.

How is it that my dreams are so damn real yet when I wake up…reality feels like a dream?

Self-centered isn’t a protection device—when I walk, it’s never about my steps. Centered on the path I follow is the only self I trust. If I choose to stay in the center, I know in my heart it won’t get me there—being focused does.

Am I dead? Do they wish I were? What did I ever do to them except to protect what I believe? Why is it people don’t know what to say to me? I’m no better than…I’m just as human. It’s my work ethics that make me who I am…if you think I’m great—come to my house and let me introduce you to the pens that make me human again.