This is my journal and my notes of guilt. These are my confessions, as vague as I want them. My attempts to translate my dreams into language. My wants of a good story told. My cries for attention and tales from my childhood. All of the love in my skin, the joy in my words. My word vomit. Me, burning my brains with an imaginary lighter. The fear in my tounge and paranoia in the walls. The hesitation in my fingertips. My mouthless living. My playing with combinations of sound. My restricted vocabulary. My thoughts, transparently naked. My skills of syntax. My frustration with the world and with myself. My love of games. My attempts to solve the problems of the universe. My dreams of the future.