from the grave of the teenage pariah

dear diary, today a new myself was born. i'm not scared to die or anything. just scared i'm losing my hold on heaven or hell (they're the same third-period english class anyway). why is it that the thing i've always wanted scares me the most? i live in a world where a tree is the parasite of kudzu, choking out the life before its first spring blossoms. the sound of choking doesn't sound too different from a guitar in overdrive these days. so what's the point of frying my vocal chords like i'm playing warped tour? you'll never listen to me anyway. maybe my baby brother will love you the way i wish you loved me.