I have come to realize that the place that I am is not the place that I am. I, the musician, the photographer, the painter, I have now become an actress as well. I put a face on in the morning for walking out the door. Tomorrow, the next day, and the next. I say words but don't quite know what they mean. I do things with lack of explanation. And for what? For the feeling that each day is emptier than the last? For knowing that "someday" might not really exist? You have to be yourself and you have to forget yourself. And I have. These are the weapons of my good intentions. Don't you get it now?