As I find my words left in journals, incomplete, I also find my thoughts and motions in life to be the same. All but fragments of days past, without thought or vision toward the next. Pieces of a never ending puzzle, yet they seem to run in a circle some how connecting together to remind me that somewhere there is a purpose for what I do or what I strive to be, even though, I not knowing what that really is, continue.
10/13/2004 B.
10/13/2004 B.
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