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The Past

Thursday, November 06, 2003
-*I fell again*-

I almost cried today. I told someone.

Wasting my time.

Lift me back up to the sun.
Help me survive the bottom.

Do I love A Perfect Circle? Yes.
This album was written for me. I am convinced. It is mine. I am mine.
I love you A Perfect Circle, where ever you may be.

Leave happiness at the door. Enter my world. See the flesh, hate the man.
Never was the more pain in my world then at the instants during which I write this.
I have not chosen to live. I have not chosen to die. I have chosen to be the
pain-bearer. The absolute carrier of pain, able to measure it to an infinitesimal
decimal place.

Tomorrow I'll surrender to myself. Tomorrow may be years away. Whenever I wake,
there I'll be. Without anyone to help me up. I am alone. That, I have chosen now,
for there is no other choice. Stop reading this. Leave me alone.

Call that number and you'll find nothing you seek. You will find only pain in me now.
It will be a grand festival of suffering and anguish only the one's can endure.

See you tomorrow sun. Where ever I may be. When ever that may be.
When-so-ever I shall reduce. Dehuman all the same.

Grey (1:18 PM)

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