October 18, 2000: Rivers

If only someone could relate with the sudden silence that injures me on a constant daily basis—I look for every source as to why it takes place believing that any reason is somehow connected to purpose…therefore I sit and listen. What purpose do I have? Am I to do nothing but stare at life and wonder? My smile is often the acted out, laughter the same. Many times, I feel incredibly sorry for learning how to fake laugh—the tributary toward the final page.

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