2:05 a.m. - 2003-08-04
pluck my strings
Krisite just left. She's in town to visit her folks but she made time to visit me and a select other few, because shes the bestest bestest girl in the whole wide world, and I loves her. Shes been one of my best friends for a long time now. I can tell her anything, things I cant even spill into anonymity on this diary. Anger and joy and sadness are so easy to talk about, but I can never seem to openly admit to being afraid. (Me? scoff! I fear nothing!) She's not just willing to listen, she really wants to hear.
We both have the exact same re-accuring nightmares about being trapped in malls.
Somewhere in this complex, somewhere so close I can feel the vibration, a man is playing the blues on a guitar. Unaccompanied. Really well. I dont know who it is or even where its coming from, but I know its a man. Because all guitars are women and you can hear it in the strings. An ache. An ache like a good fuck with someone you love, but cant trust.
