Having a conversation with Alex online, listening to Incubus on MTV and re-reading some of these older entries, it seems so clear right now. The many words that I don't write are the stray thoughts that occupy so much use of energy.
It's like the stories of the past, when being honest would head off any chance of holding something over my head.
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The daily jazz of my mind, as pure & honest as possible; but know that words are themselves filters of the original thought/idea.
