![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88.8){kind=small}
I'm sitting here writing this with two black eyes, one from myself and one from my sister self,
the sucker puncher, who cant seem to get it together either.
Wait, what's the date?
Searching.... searching..
here it is,
the only calender in this room that I can reference to is one of those that lawyers send out with a flip-down piece of cardboard that you can stand it up with.
My computer time and date says its still January. I changed it to the right date I dont know how many times.
This doesnt feel real.
I'm living around animals.
People who scrape and feed off the man. Complete addicts. It's tough. It's been tough.
Detroit is being held together, but just barely. I dont go into the city. I ride the bus, rarely.
Living around those who live for their next high, drinking down drinks
and owning cats because cats don't need anybody.
These are my truths, written in a type of cursive writing.
More and more, and then down further. It's been going along now rather steadily. I've grown from that, I've learned lessons. I'm still compelled to go in and delete through, make new. Maybe start a collection.
Decided on:
When I turn 21, I'm going to start collecting randoms. Perhaps matchbooks. Perhaps condoms.
My fire sign. MY tiger.
Mother dragoness.
Mother color.
Dawn, and I'm her Amber.
Nothing at this point, no point of return. Lack of something, that lack of luster.
I'll miss the old her. I'll miss my mother.
I have other means of support, I have ones who want me to prove my worth.
Chicago-win like Chicago wind,
you said it best Kayne. I'll keep it bumpin.
the sucker puncher, who cant seem to get it together either.
Wait, what's the date?
Searching.... searching..
here it is,
the only calender in this room that I can reference to is one of those that lawyers send out with a flip-down piece of cardboard that you can stand it up with.
My computer time and date says its still January. I changed it to the right date I dont know how many times.
This doesnt feel real.
I'm living around animals.
People who scrape and feed off the man. Complete addicts. It's tough. It's been tough.
Detroit is being held together, but just barely. I dont go into the city. I ride the bus, rarely.
Living around those who live for their next high, drinking down drinks
and owning cats because cats don't need anybody.
These are my truths, written in a type of cursive writing.
More and more, and then down further. It's been going along now rather steadily. I've grown from that, I've learned lessons. I'm still compelled to go in and delete through, make new. Maybe start a collection.
Decided on:
When I turn 21, I'm going to start collecting randoms. Perhaps matchbooks. Perhaps condoms.
My fire sign. MY tiger.
Mother dragoness.
Mother color.
Dawn, and I'm her Amber.
Nothing at this point, no point of return. Lack of something, that lack of luster.
I'll miss the old her. I'll miss my mother.
I have other means of support, I have ones who want me to prove my worth.
Chicago-win like Chicago wind,
you said it best Kayne. I'll keep it bumpin.
