everything's a copy of a copy of a copy

i love this girl so much. why can't i get myself put together enough to make it worth her while?

when she says she doesn't want to fight for us, it kills me.

to be completely honest, it's not the lack of sleep that bothers me, it's finding ways to pass the time with dry, open eyes. i'd love to be able to say that there will be something worthwhile to read in this, but i wouldn't bet money on it.

i do find it interesting how easy it is to allow self-deprecation to creep into what is at this point essentially freewriting.

clawing blindly through pea soup

we're at the vet right now, getting elliott's shots updated. the tension is palpable. the tension is always palpable.

it is as if i inhabit a foreign land where the air is nearly always cluttered with the opaque, "pea-soup" fog so commonly associated with london, only there are occasional moments of sunshine.

certain glorious glimpses of a life that may be. i can only pray that it remains a life that may be, rather than becoming the life that may have been.

trav.