Make your own free website on Tripod.com
10 December 2000

It's here again that certain feeling
The kind that make your shoulders sag
The kind that makes you feel like the stars have all lined up against you
The kind that makes you think like you're a total loser
The kind that makes you rethink past decisions
The kind that makes you force yourself to think that there aren't any regrets
Yet fail miserably still
The kind that makes you want to just dissapear
And simply cease out of existence
The kind that makes you want to end it all
The kind that make temporary distractions out of good times with close friends
The kind that makes you question your faith
The kind that makes you do something you'll most likely regret
The kind that makes you want to crawl up in one corner and never come out
The kind that seems to suck out all strength from your body
The kind that rack your brains out
The kind that makes you all sorts of unhappy
The kind that fucks you six ways to Sunday
The kind that blows out of proportion even the simplest of things
The kind that makes you come out with all these different "kind"s
Which seem to be in infinite amount
It never goes away really
It merely goes on hiatus, hidden dormant
Then it comes back with a vengeance
You never get used to it but oddly enough, you learn to deal
With strength of will and people who support
We must never lose hope.