sometimes it's hard to recreate it. i mean how can we ever hope to tell the truth of the matter and i know that we can't but i'm frustrated at how we come nowhere close, we can't, we can't go back even if we live our lives defined by the place, trying to recreate...trying...trying and i'm trying but sometimes the words just don't come to mind and it seems more noble to give up trying rather than get the half-assed version out there because you know that you'll never give the idea its rightful place, its rightful words.

the 15th and i realize it's been five years and, yeah, i know you don't know what the fuck that means but i do. five years...and i'm trying to write it down. but i'm realizing that maybe i can't write it down without writing down the here and now, without owning up to the years...