i wish i could keep a diary, or a journal or personal record of some sort. i think lovely inspiring excellent things, and terrible heartbreaking destructive things, and then lose them all in the throes of my mind, which is usually all wound up and worrying. i worry so much that i can’t see past myself most of the time. i would rather be a babbling fool than think of things to the extent that i do. i can’t, can’t, can’t shut it off, the worst thing in the world. my mind has a mind of its own, i mean, it isn’t mine at all… i guess this could be a “personal outlet” trite as it is, god that’s bad. i’m in search of a place to store things away so that i don’t need to think about them anymore…