This is Melvin in all his glory (all twenty pounds of him)! Isn't he handsome?!?




Tonight was an eventful one. I created so many things in the kitchen today! Margot crashed at my house last night so when I woke up I made us pancakes and some coffee. I rule at making breakfast! And then later we went to her grandmother's house and cooked dinner for the grandmother, her cousin and her mom (and us of course). We made this really simple enchiladas casserole thing that was quite tasty if I do say so myself. There were 2 versions of the same dish- chicken and one veggie friendly. We did good. I love cooking with Margot. We have the same habits and style when it comes to working in the kitchen. It's a shame that I completely fucked up the rice to go with it. For the life of me I can't cook rice. I always manage to make it 'not good' somehow and it's so stupid because obviously rice isn't a difficult thing to make. It's like microwave dinners. I can't cook those either. I'd rather make real food and not bother with thawing out a plastic tray of pre-prepared. Oh well. Maybe some day I'll get it right.

after food we met some old friends and had a few drinks. Now I'm home and lonely and thinking of someone and smiling.

note in that last post 2 things. 1. the time. 2. the word "yet" followed by the comment about me being a pessimist.

there's a reason I'm a pessimist. There's a reason that I started drinking and smoking and running away from home when I was 16 years old. My Mother. Ahh. Mother. She's so nice to everyone who she didn't give birth to. I just experienced round 2 of the apartment/money argument that leaves me wanting to stab myself in the eye. Right now I blast a song call Mr. Chainsaw by Alk3. I think it fits pretty well. in 30 seconds I'm off to the garage to smoke my life away. I fucking hate this house!

*Mr. Chainsaw*
When was it that you lost your youth or traded
It for something more for them to use so jaded
Why is it that you never said
I love you more than just a friend
I pray this gridlock never ends
And when we get there just depends
I found out recently that you are leaving
For good I hope I softly tell my ceiling
It's better now to be alive
Sleeping is my 9 to 5
I'm having nightmares all the time
Of running out of words that rhyme
Everything that you could never say
Would never matter anyway
I took a hammer and two nails to my eardrums long ago
Before that steak knife took my eyes
I looked up to the sky
For the last thing I would ever see
For the last time I'd cry
When was it that you sold your life or wasted
Every bite of that small slice you never tasted
I guess I should be one to talk
There's nights that I can't even walk
There's days I couldn't give a fuck
And in between is where I'm stuck
From blocks away I heard somebody screaming
That small child inside of you that you left bleeding
You stabbed him up not once but twice
Cubicles will now suffice
Some say it's the roll of the dice
I think they're wrong I know I'm right
Every breath that I could barely breathe
Could barely make it past my teeth
I took a blowtorch to both of my lungs a long long time ago
Every step that i could take
Every one more difficult to make
Mr. Chainsaw came and took my legs a long, long time ago
In case you're wondering
I'm singing about growing up about giving in
In case you're wondering we're singing about growing up
About giving up and giving in

Today I got out of class in the neighborhood of 2 hours early. It was a pleasant surprise. My teacher's partner was in the hospital for surgery and wanted to be there when her love awoke. So sweet. After class one cool girl from my workshop approached me and complimented my in class writing that I had previously thought to be garbled garbage. I can't tell you how happy that made me. The early dismissal also allowed me the rarity of eating lunch with a certain fellow that I don't seem to see much. My stand against red meat is working out well thus far as I was able to resist both Wendy's and McDonald's cheese burgers. Ah cheese burgers (sigh), I will miss you. When I got to the train station I had about a half an hour to kill before my train so I wondered toward a bathroom to find that it was temporarily closed. I didn't have to actually go until I saw it in that state. So I wandered to the other bathroom in the general area and it was closed too. Ugh. I could do nothing but sit and wait and hope that I didn't pee my pants before I got home. (For the record, my drawers are still high and dry.) The only really crappy thing that happened to me (yet for I am a pessimist!) today was the three bitches on the back of the train who chatterboxed it the entire way home. I thank nicotine and the gods that I was not unfortunate to have a mousy girl voice because I'd probably have to kill myself it I was forced to talk in a high pitched tones all the time. They woke me up- which was the first half of the problem. I couldn't fall back asleep so I threw on my headphones (I'm not sure why they weren't on at that point to begin with) and let the wonderful sounds of the Shins drown them out except (this being the second half) unless my boys were rocking out I could still hear the bitches in the back! I wanted to just crank it but they had already given me a headache. It was a worthless struggle only to find that they were getting off at the same stop as I was. I can't tell you why that bothered me but it did.

I need to be productive tonight. I need to. Have to. I feel like I'm already behind and it's only week 2 for fucks sake! Aye me! Tonight I have to buy 2 more books and something called a jump drive (you computer savvy people can feel free to laugh at me now) and I have some writing to do and I'd like to get another chunk (if not all) of my math homework done. I'd also love to spend some time with Melvin.

OH. Speaking of Melvin. Margot and I decided that we're going to celebrate the birthday of this wonderful beast on March 17th. That's right, St. Patty's day! It was the day, a year ago, that our new found friend was brought to the shelter. So this March 17th, my baby will be 2 years old! He's so wonderful and fuzzy and cute and fat! Maybe we'll throw him a party or something. I'd be down. Maybe I'll just party it up by myself if no one else is making St. Patrick's' Day plans. It is one of my personal favorite holidays, afterall. (Green beer tastes like butthole so bring me a Guinness, bitch!)

There’s a vice on my heart. I keep it there because it’s mine. It restricts the beating. Sometimes, in the right company, I’ll loosen the grip and my heart will race in its freedom. The blood flow to my head floods out of control. But I always turn it back, tightening it again, because it feels safer that way.

I should be sleeping right now considering I have to wake up in a little over 4 hours. Oh god! 4 hours. Good night!

Today I missed my train coming home and had to wait around for about 45 minutes for the next one. This was actually good for 2 reasons. I got to consume a tasty fruit smoothie while I waited and I also got through about 5 weeks of my math homework which means that I got through all the material in my class up to spring break. At this rate I should just do all if it this week and then I can return the $90 book that they made me buy for full refund and be done with everything and coast through the semester even better than I had planned. My textbooks are fucking ridiculously expensive this semester. Damn Science. Damn math. Damn all of them. I just keep reminding myself that I'm only 2 and a half semesters away from being done (the half is a summer session of a workshop). I will get through this. I know I will.

I've had really strong urges to start boxing up my stuff in my room and stacking it in the middle in protest. Maybe I still will but I don't know if I actually want to look at boxes for x amount of time. I've pretty much gotten rid of almost everything that I can get rid of but there's still a bit more to chuck. I hate everything in this room (except my books mostly). Today I think I may be ambitious and dismantle my bed frame and set up my netting canopy back up. I don't know if that will actually improve things but it'll give me something to do. ONWARD!

stripped down and left with my basic black soul. Call it a face lift, though it's not exactly accurate.

A new low. I've just hit a new low. the conversation came and went as quickly as a fart in the wind. There's virutally no way that I can get the hell out of this house now. The only option that I have is to drop some classes and start working again but working wouldn't really solve anything because I then wouldn't be able to get the money that I'm getting from my parents now, as little as that really is. IMPOSSIBLE. I'm fucking stuck here. I'll never get out. I'm going to die in this hole. The worst part of it is that all of this stems from the fact that my parents are picking up the tab for my school. I don't give a shit about school. I hate it. I'm bored in every class that I take. It's all so stupid. Maybe I'll just drop out and start working full time again and get the hell out of here and never come back. that's all i really want. I want to leave this place and never come back. They'll never see me or hear from me- not even a fucking Christmas card. 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I can't even talk about this right now. I feel so lost. All that I've thought about and hoped for was just smashed and ruined. There has to be another way. I'll find it or it's going to kill me.

I blame the tone of my last post on me being genuinely nervous about my workshop that I'll be attending in a little over 7 hours. I'm starting to feel better about it now but we'll see how it goes.

In early mornings when the first light catches the mist on the leaves they sparkle like prisms with nature's decor. That was when I saw it, standing at the root of the old oak tree. It was dawn and I was out walking. The air was chill from the morning breeze and the birds had just begun their daily songs. I took hold of one of the great limbs and lifted myself onto it. Higher and higher I climbed, through the damp leaves and jutting branches seeking out the treasure that had lured me.

It was there, just above me, round, red, dangling from a string that had wrapped itself on a branch. Maybe it was the oak that had called to it, as it had to me, and when the wind had carried it near the oak snatched it out of the sky. I would get there. Onward and upward I went, pulling myself up higher and gripping the bark, letting the damp leaves brush my cheeks and body as I ascended. I was so close to it now. It was just out of my grasp. I leaned my body down onto a great branch just above my red prize, lay flat on my chest with one arm gripping the circumference of my support and reached for it. It danced at my fingertips as it wavered in the treetop wind. I inched my body ever so slowly, farther out and leaned to my side and made for it again. I couldn't quite grasp it. I closed my eyes and hugged close to the bark and reached again, trusting my fingers to find the string on the branch below. I caught a taste of it and grabbed hold and opened my eyes. The sun was rising higher and shedding new light on me, changing the landscape moment to moment, creating new and fading shadows. I tugged on the string and eventually it broke free. The treasure was mine. I inched myself backward toward the massive trunk of the old oak tree and sat straddling my perch and held my prize, a red balloon, and soaked in the rest of the morning as the dew faded and the world around me awoke.

I've been sitting here for about 5 minutes trying to collect all my little thoughts into something a bit more inclusive. I've still got nothing. I'm thinking of all the things that I could tell you about. I could tell you about my classes that I've been too and how I wanted to bash my head against my desk in both of them (thus far) or how I actually fell asleep for twenty minutes today in biology while my teacher was rattling on about how she found squirrels in her car and carried them to class with her- in her shirt I might add- and I heard bits and pieces about her having a carton of milk under her arm to get it warm and then using a pipet to feed the baby squirrels that were still in her shirt. I actually talked to people in my class today- though it was forced conversation spawned through a group activity.

I could mention how I'm feeling really conflicted about posting things again. It's all resting on the tip of my brain and I just can't push myself to get the words out. I don't think I want you to know what's going on in my head. There's a whole island of bullshit that I want to post about, to be honest, but isn't ever what I end up actually posting about because I can't seem to get past my self censor. Sorry Gary, I've failed you. I'm an anti-social chicken shit.

I feel sick. I'm also really good at pretending.

I would drink your blood if I knew it would kill me.

I actually cried. Motherfuckers. What happened to me today didn't make me angry, more saddened and disappointed. Nothing feels better in the whole wide world than to feel like you're being misjudged and it hurts the worst when you find out that it was all discussed behind your back by people you would call friends. I really wish people would start talking to me about stuff, if they're so concerned about my choices and all. Call me a shithead, or a bitch or a stupid cunt or whatever you may be thinking but say it to my face. Who knows, maybe you're right. I'm not perfect either. I know there are a lot of people who don't really understand or see things the way that I do. My gift. My curse. But I'll say this and then I'll stop, I do what I do because it feels like the right thing for me to do. It feels good to like your life and more often than not, lately, I like mine. So why do people feel the need to rain on my parade?

Actually, I don't know why this has been bothering me so much anymore. In truth, at this exact moment, it isn't. I'm going to tell you that I don't care and that it's all sticks and stones, love. This post may be erased at some point. Wait and see, or not.

I'm done with those thoughts now.

There were many things that happened to me today that made me smile. If you haven't met Melvin yet, than you're missing out. He's the coolest! There was coffee and a very tasty grilled cheese sandwich- and that's just what I ate! A pretty pair of eyes showed me bookstores and other sorts of candy for my own to feast upon. I hope to see those eyes again soon. There was a swing set, jazz music, a kitten and a few cigarettes.

I glimpsed visions of my future and decided that all that I really want in life is a job that I won't hate myself for, an apartment in the city and a kitten. So far I'm 1 for 3 but it's better than nothing. (Three cheers for Melvin!) I saw myself, in time, as a full fledged vegetarian and a non-smoker (gasp!) who drinks a bottle of wine everyday and reads and edits manuscripts for a living. I could live with that.

I'd like to go longboarding. I think I'll do that when I wake up tomorrow. If only I could fly. Where do you think I'd go first?

There were so many faces in my dream last night. Some I faced with a blank stare while others I couldn't help smile at. Sometimes that's the only thing that I remember from my dreams, the faces. There are fragments of fear still tucked under my eyelids but it's not reflective of my expression today. I can't remember if he was there or if I was looking for him or he was looking for me or something along that line but I remember seeing his face.

I never ended up smoking my memories away last night. I got caught in conversation that toward the end had me killing a bottle of Baileys (at around 4:30am). It was another night of me falling asleep when my family was waking up and me waking up when my family is coming home from work. Today I got woken up by my bird, whose cage is on the exact opposite side of my L shaped house. He's our watch-bird and needed no training. He just does this- every time a car goes by his window (which would follow the path of our driveway) he calls out these very loud very shrill screeching whistles rhythmically for minutes at a time. He wakes me up all the way across the house with my door shut. Amazing.

Today I feel like hiding in the artificial blue light of my room all day with a bottle of wine to keep me company. I see no reason to want to see the sun today but soon nicotine will bend my will and I'll have to walk outside. It's cold outside and it's cold in my room. Today is going to be fab-u-lous!

Take the quiz: "Which American City Are You?"

San Francisco
Liberal and proud, you'll live your lifestyle however you choose in the face of all that would suppress you.

I started cleaning out this enormous dresser drawer that I call my shit space. I've been dumping crap, photo albums, nail polish, art supplies, into that drawer for years and the time had come for me to go through it all. It was the pictures that struck me. I had to look through them. Had to. I found pictures of me in high school and remembered that that was when I had started dying my hair red on a regular basis. Then I remembered why I did it. I wanted to be sick. One of the first times that I ever died my hair was when I was 16. That was when I worked at the gift shop at the hospital. My first job. There was a man who worked maintenance for the hospital that would come into the shop often and make me feel not so pretty. I hated him. One day I showed up to work, not as the blonde that I should have been, but as a new vixen red head. He walked in as usual but took one look at me and seemed slightly distraught. He actually asked me when my hair would be blonde again. His name was Raul and after that day he didn't bother me very much but that may have had something to do with me quitting shortly there after. I kept my hair red for years after that but eventually I let myself forget and my blonde crept back.

There was also a box in the drawer that I had forgotten about. I guess I could call it my "boy box" because inside it holds tokens of things to be expected in a box as such: flowers from dances that I went to in high school, letters, drawings, ticket stubs, jewelry that I can't throw away but I probably won't ever wear... A little time capsule. I should bury it.

I'm sick with nostalgia now. I think I'll go smoke away these memories and fall asleep.

Before I go I'd like to mention to Margot that I love her and that I'll always be there for her, in good times and bad. It's funny how sometimes life can be both at the same time.

All I've thought about all day today is moving back into an apartment somewhere. Nothing else. Thinking like that makes me want to chuck all my material possessions and I may dive into an in depth cleaning/throwing away my childhood session when I'm done writing this- actually I'm almost certain that I will. I like throwing things away. I get to lessen the weight on my back. I've always wanted to be able to pack my life into one suitcase and disappear with no regrets. I'll get there someday. Right now with my life crammed into this room, I can still envision where my baby crib was, it's really hard for me to get things to feel right. Every time I feel along this line of motivation things get a bit better but I know that it will never be quite right. This room has too much history. I know every crack on the walls. That phrase that people say about how you can never go home again isn't entirely accurate. You can go home. It's just a lot harder to make it feel like the home it used to be. In my case it doesn't say much. This house has never been a favorite place for me but it's a roof over my head and music helps hold my sanity when everything else is yelling and angry outside my bedroom door.

Often when I think about living somewhere else there are numerous places that come to mind and I'm not sure that I'll ever really have a "home" or if I really want one. This world is too big to be tied down to one little place forever. There's too much to see and there's that view that I haven't gotten yet. Mountains, oceans, deserts, ice bergs. I want to see castles and the pyramids and the great wall of China. The wonders of the world. I want to see them all- every one of them. So that's where that whole "one suitcase" thing would really come in handy. I wonder if I could ever part with my books... I'd probably have to give them to someone, maybe sell a few for extra hitch hiking cash. When I leave this room next I want to leave no trace. I want nothing in this room that I'd ever want to come back for. To hell with it. Burn it to the ground, I'll be too busy having adventures to care.

Chicago. I've always been in love with this city though. All my best days were spent within it's limits...

I was going to tell you about how I woke up the other day feeling something heavy resting on my chest. I let my imagination run with it and refused to open my eyes but I was in too much of a hurry that morning.

When I got home tonight the sun was already down but I could still see the snow in my backyard. It was almost all the way melted and I actually felt sad. I would have dove head first today, right into the icy crystals and rolled around with a smile on my face. I shut off my brain for the night. For some reason I just felt like I needed to cool it down, mute the voices in my head for a little while. The results are always successful but that doesn't always make for the most interesting blog posting- though on occasion they're drastically improved. It's all about the levels my friends. Right now I feel burnt out and my mind is overloaded on processing to really stay focused on this.

It was a weekend without elephants but I swear I saw a dragon. There was something else I saw that left an even more surreal impression on my mind. The results are apparent on both my face and flesh. Today I found scratches all over my body, on my hands and back. Battle scars. Wounds I'm going to wear with a smile (along with all the others I've collected along the way). It's a new thing that I'm embracing within myself, acting on things and being the person inside me that has been suppressed for a very long time. So far I'm pleased with the progress and the results have been promising.

I was on the train and I was sitting across the aisle from this guy who looked like a child molester who still lived with his parents. He was talking the entire ride to some woman in a manner a step below phone sex.

It was impossible to sleep. I was thinking. I probably should have been writing.

One beautiful day this guy and a lady took a walk in a park. No joke. The sky was blue. The sun shone. The breeze was gentle. They were headed for a bench. A dog darted across a mud grass patch headed for this herd of geese. He was ready for adventure. Charging ahead he chased the geese out of the mud grass and to the pond that sat half frozen on the warm February day. Dog made his way over the cement blocks and onto the ice, absorbed in his animal adrenalin and just didn't notice. He slid, or jumped, into the water and was helpless to get out. So this guy and a lady were walking, watching all this. There was nothing anyone could do but stand there and watch this animal struggle. Eventually the dog heard one of the calls and was dragged to safety. That guy and the lady walked away in search of more adventures of their own.

Today they gave him a year, my grandfather who’s dying of cancer. And then I realized, after my mother told me this, this was the first time that my grandparents had forgotten my birthday. It was more than a week ago, but I didn’t notice until today. I thought about how they’re all disappearing, one by one. Half already blowin’ in the wind and now one more is sneaking past. I'm, at the moment, trying to convince myself that I don’t care because I can feel my eyes burning and the hand around my heart start to squeeze. I don’t like looking ahead and if I could let myself, I’d never want to see past the start of tomorrow. Everything after would be looking at the stars and beyond, full of empty possibility.

I have a backyard that happens to be covered with a pristine layer of snow. I thought about playing in it today. Making it less than perfect with my footprints and body, I’d manipulate it in any way that I pleased. I wanted to. I wanted to take the blank smoothness out of the snow, give it texture, and ruin it. It was screaming to be touched. One step. That was all it was going to take but I stood there on the edge and my feet wouldn’t move. They were stuck to the pavement. For one reason or another I couldn’t make myself take that step. I thought about just falling forward and letting gravity change my fate but instead of leaning forward my knees buckled and I sat down on the ground. I touched the white with my finger and traced a circle. I clenched my hand into a fist and punched it into the snow through my circle. Bullseye. I let my hand sit in it’s cavern and as I eased it out I caught some of the crystals and it was cold and wet and I saw that the color of my skin was turning a queer shade of pink that was becoming more and more red as time ticked by.

I walked back into the house and down the hall. I closed the door to my room and I lay down in my bed and I closed my eyes. I was back at the edge of my yard. It was brilliant. Have you ever seen it? When the light tickles very prism and the ground just glows? That’s what I saw. For some reason it made me angry and I lifted a foot and took a step and my foot sank and crunched into the layers of snow. I took another step. Another. Another. I waked around and around until I was running in a circle closing in. I stopped after a minute and found myself in the middle. In the summer months I would lay on my back in the grass at that spot staring up into the branches of the trees and watch the leaves dance. I laid down on the cold crystals right there. I was careful about my head. I set it down gently and tried to see if I could keep it from breeching the surface of the snow. The second I closed my eyes I heard a crack and thought it may have been part of me and not just the frozen white water beneath my red hair. I went with it. I put pressure down and let my head sink to be with my body and the snow came up to my ears. I felt encased. Secure. I never wanted to open my eyes again. I wanted to be frozen like these crystals, with these crystals, and when the sun came again I could melt into the earth and be gone. I felt stiff. The feeling changed. Keeping my eyes closed, my body, and my invisible breath creating rhythmic clouds above me, feeling secure snapped, like a switch flipped, into a feeling of oppression. It began to feel like something was holding me down. I felt tied down, pinned down, and held fast in my snow body mold. I let my eyes open. I saw the blue above and I leaned my head forward and looked at the windows. One of those windows was mine. In the pains of glass reflected other windows and me, lying there helpless in the snow. I was hoping for a hand, something to grasp, to help me pull out of this mold that I’ve forced myself into but there was no one. My neck collapsed back and a tear ran sideways across my temple and down. I closed my eyes again and was just then beginning to feel and understand cold.

The cravings for this, my poison, are growing and festering within me. There is a demon calling me, seducing me to his will, and I smile at him and let myself be taken. I like the pain, nails on flesh revealing the first signs of real life, my blood. It reminds me. They gave him a year. Happy Birthday.

I pull the evil sirens in past my lips and feel them dancing across my tongue and down my throat. They dive head first into my insides and with every tug from my heart strings I let them carry me farther and farther into the clouds above. I let myself defalate. For the first time, I feel. Every inch of myself, every organ, every vein, every molecule. I feel whole and alive and like me. My head swims, soaking and swelling in it's own pool of my life fluids. It's mechanical. It's musical. It's beautiful, knowing peace of mind.

I'm amazed at the humor that I find hiding around every corner of my life. When will I learn that having one good day should be a red flag that I'm about to fall on my ass? I really shouldn't have answered my phone today. It put me in a position to feel sick, angry and twisted all wrapped up like a bean burrito. Rage and beans, my friends. They go so well together. A pointless circular conversation leading to one of the worst tension headaches that I've had in a long while was by far the low point of my day. And it kept happening. My phone rings and I answer it. Over an hour later... I hang up the phone. Ten minutes later it rings again. I hang up the phone. Twenty minutes later arrives a text message. In the minutes beyond there's another. I almost threw my phone into traffic.

I'm not going to put any more energy in trying to be who you want me to be (yeah, I'm talking to you because I know you'll read this). Don't back me into a corner, I swear I'll come at you with claws. Walk away. I'm not stopping you. This discussion is a broken record haunting my dreams.

But today wasn't a total loss. I actually woke up before noon sans alarm clock. Amazing? You bet that is. Unfortunately I was having really bizarre dreams about my heart exploding and I woke up half uncovered, shivering and laying sideways in my bed. I cleaned today. Did some laundry. I played clue with some cool people and I actually won a round (a rare occasion). There were drugs and much laughter and in time my head hurt less and my heart felt less pressured. Now I feel withdrawn and slightly empty though that may be the fault of the sad bastardly music that I'm currently listening to (specifics on that subject will only come to those who ask). I'm just tired of the same conversations, the same arguments. Don't you get it? I want more out of my life that this, this pathetic loneliness that I feel staring back at me through skeleton eyes in the mirror. I can do better than what I have right now and I'm tired of settling. So I ask you, when does your life really become your own? The answer: as soon as you're ready to take hold of it. See, I feel this big shift coming for me, like stuff is about to happen and change and things will be different for me and I'm scared and I'm apprehensive and nervous but I'm waiting and looking forward and hoping. I just wish other people could see that and know what it means to me and what it means for me. I'm still me. Why can't you see me?

I'm sorry.

I thought this could be a fitting addition to this evenings ranting:

You are the one who hates to hate but hates to
love. You can't deside at all! You have a
switching mind and just can't make up your
mind. You like someone but then someone else
comes and you think they are ugly the next day.


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You can laugh with me (or at me) all the way to the liquor store.

So. I have this silly smile on my face right now. I haven't looked in a mirror but I can feel it there and the more I think about why it's there the bigger it gets. This was a good day. Today was a better day.

I'm still not tired. Now the question remains. Zelda? or no Zelda? I don't really feel like playing but there's that whole not sleeping thing that I do. I think i'll choose drugs. Drugs will make me sleep and a new adventure will bloom in my mind and maybe when I wake up tomorrow this smile will still be there to greet me.

it's 3:30 in the morning and i find myself sitting here unable to sleep and craving a cigarette more than i can tell you but at the same time trying to fight it. those little sticks of shreds of leaves surrounded by a little piece of paper to hold it all together and a cotton wedge at one end have hold over me and i admit that there are days when that makes me very angry. most days i just don't care though. people keep telling me to quit smoking. they tell me that it's bad for me. duh. thanks. news flash? probably not. it's not a matter of will i or won't i or am i capable of it. i can. i don't want to. i won't. not right now anyway. smoking still has a place in my life. i let it have a place in my life. i like it having a place in my life. frankly, i like being a smoker. it gives me something that i can't get anywhere else from anyone else. so i'll continue on my self damaging path and go out into the cold night and kill myself softly again and again. one day i'll stop. one day i'll be dead.