"I am wretched, I'm tired/ But the preacher's on fire/ and I wish I could believe.../ Whoever watches over all these truckers/ have a little mercy for a weary sinner/ and deliver me/ Lord, deliver me/ to the next Best Western." -Richard Shindell

Yeah. I'm scared....of myself. I saw my youth today, and I don't know how to take her disappearance. Dar Williams is playing over and over in my mind saying, "Farewell to the old me," and its bugging the shit out of me. I don't want to say good-bye...but I must because if I don't I'll be trapped in this labrynth of fear the rest of my life. So whatever. Don't talk to strangers, they fuck with your mind.