9:14 p.m. - 2008-02-17
The process
I knew there was something different about the way the sky crumbled today. Not like it hasn't before, but it's just that the pieces pierced my skin today. One dug even deeper and now I've got this piece of heaven stuck in my heart, bleeding me dry.

In a chaotic day such as this, another piece of me dries, crumbles, and withers away. Innocence, ravished completely, I've got nothing to revert to.

Somebody once told me that in order to be born again I must first die. I've been dying for years and I never seem to expire. Must I push the knife to speed up the process?