| Dear Diary:
0--- I seem to be having a bit of a alcohol and drug problem- I can't get drunk, no matter how hard I try. And I can't find any good, cheap drugs. In any case, I don't think that I'm going to tell anyone any more secrets. And I definitely don't think that I can bear to hear the innocent laughter of lovers. The sweet smile of sincere strangers falls bitterly upon my face. And my tin lip, I hear it crinkle and bend as I feign to return a smile. -0-- The sky should be crying, instead the ground is dry and waiting; wanting the rain that will not come too soon. I remember saying that I was going to suffer, and I knew that I would. I just thought that I might have some bit of relief. But the palliative words of assurance never came, no sign of clouds in this dryness. And now the cold has settled in. --0- I remember thinking to myself that she had never really received love... it was when she had told me it was the nicest thing that anyone had ever given to her. I was smug in thinking that I could give her even more than that; that I could be the one to show her love. It is a common misconception that lightning strikes the ground from the sky, for in reality, there is an imperceptible electron path, an invisible flash that shoots up from the ground, an initial pathway upon which the visible lightning bolt descends. The love that we give to others is like that imperceptible electron path. It is the other who provides the energy for the strike. I don't know if xxxx had the energy or the will to power the lightning bolt. Why is she forcing me to be callous about her? I keep waiting for the strike but the sky withholds. My lips are so dry. I am nourished only by the memory of those wet days. ---0
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