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Therese Aug 10
9:38 am
the light shine through my window
and my eyes open,
the room fills with regret
along with the warmth from the sun
I am tired,
but when am I not.
12:58 pm
it is cold outside
and not like usual,
not as it was the morning you left my bed.
I am changing-
but then again, when am I not
3:23pm
I am tired.
I am alway tired.
7:47pm
I wondered if going outside would fix the dreadful experience of being alive.
I am condition to want comfort
the conditions of something, somewhere else-
that I cannot control
10:04pm
I wish that sun was up.
I am scared,
but when was I not.
eliana Jun 22
Today is January 1st, wednesday, 3:48 pm. Hi, i just got home from grandma's/ We ate menudo and she had alot of food. Oh and happy new year. It feels the same i guess. I'm just on my bed. I'll probably just play a game. um i'll write later i guess. - 3:53 pm, E.C
    Um. I'm crying so much. I wanna cut so bad. I cant do this. Please help. I cant. I just cant. I wanna be gone. Just like bubba (my brother) said. I'm an embarassment. A disappointment. Why me Jesus. Why. WHY. I wanna cry but nenas in here. I can't take it much longer. I have to cut. I'm sorry.
   It's dark. I don't know where my knife is.
I'm going to cry myself to sleep.  I HATE MYSELF.
-8:28 pm, E.C.
i found my journal from the beginning of the year where i wrote as a diary kinda and this was what i wrote the first day of the year. i feel ive gone through a lot and grown overall but i just wanted to share this, as i was going through a rough time last year and I dont cut as much, rarely but um yeah i improved much it feels like. i have other pages if anyone wants me to post those just let me know but they are just kinda vents but yeah 👍
Andy Denson Mar 22
the great thing about Bic-Round Stic M is that the ink doesn't bleed through the paper.

singing all day - will the willing to write songs and produce a great debut album.

where do i stand? anywhere—

where are you?

babe…

why must you ask such trivial questions?

then again, i grapple with an external validation problem,

curbed by a body—my own diary.

andy denson's diaries, tales—sweet.

thoughts flutter like moths to a flame,

yearning for the light of recognition,

yet finding solace in the shadows.

the pages absorb my musings,

ink drying without a trace.
this poem is a glimpse into the mind of andy denson—a successful billionaire artist, actor, writer, director, and poet. it's a reflection of personal musings, the desire for recognition, and the simultaneous comfort found in solitude. andy writes with a raw, introspective style that invites readers to step closer, to learn more, to uncover the depths of artistry, ambition, and emotion woven into each line. if you've just discovered andy, this is just the beginning.
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