Anger. Passion. Misery. Desire.

I angered. I wrote.
I was passionate. I waxed lyrical.
I was in misery. I had prose in my head.
I desired. I was full of fiction.

Anger. Passion. Misery. Desire. Get thee back into my life!

I used to like driving alone at night. I would empty out my thoughts, and just drive with the windows down, enjoying the cool night air. I think it had something to do with too much MTV and melodrama.

Sometime in the past half year, driving at night suddenly became a chore.