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5:54 p.m. - 1990-10-23
Lystless, by Antonius written in the Register, Spring 2001

It is Monday, January 29, 2001, 11:35 p.m. Yesterday was wonderful; today was ok. I woke up. I left and went to work, I went home, I didn't do my homework. I did everything I usually do on a usual Monday. My friend is dead.


"hi, what's up?"

" are you feeling?"

"great, you?"

"...something happened."


The first thing that went in my mind was a December night; she wore beautiful contacts.

She was so perfect. Her most perfect aspect was that she knew she wasn't perfect.

I hurt. I am tired. I hate. I am weary.

If only I knew that that was her greatest fault.

"she WHAT?"




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