Words...

I'd write and write, but I'm ashamed of the words I would type. I'm afraid to see these sentences take form, the sentences that come from my own heart.

I'm ashamed of my own life- my interests, my beliefs, my dreams, my choices. I'm scared to anything because of this shame...especially scared to tell anyone what I'm doing.

In other news, 1200 birds have died. Day 70 of the OIL DISASTER.

And my ps2 doesn't work anymore. I guess, I wrecked it trying to force it play European DVDS. Hell, I just wanted to see if WT looked any different on a HD TV.

My shoulder looks like a Polish flag because I was outside during the peak hours of the sun yesterday. It was raining when I left so I was worried about an umbrella instead of sunblock.

I wonder if other people think as much as I do...I mean do they have as many different thoughts cross their mind that they find necesarry to record. Like I'm the idiot who sits around all day writing their entire lives down.

Why is my life important? Important to me? If it's just like everyone else's...I mean I want to just devote my life to doing greater good...I don't care about me until I notice how everyone else is better than me...How I really am nothing.