Do you sometimes miss reading what's going on in my mind or the truth that I never speak, but always write? How many journal entries have I written (and locked and deleted) about you and me and the us that existed only in Livejournal? A hundred maybe? Or more.
Did you ever believe the things I've written? I've deleted all accounts of you and me and the us that existed mostly in letters and messages in a way that cannot be undone as if they were physical journals collectively burnt.
This is for you and me and the us that existed in journals and books and songs and metaphors...in an empty street, in an empty room, in an empty elevator and in a crowd of unfamiliar faces.
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