You can have it all, my empire of dirt... but I will let you down; I will make you hurt. I need a cigarette. Better yet some pills (more concealable/easy to take/longer, stronger effects). I give up. On dieting? Well maybe on the anorexic style of it. I want to say fuck it altogether. I wish a lot of things. They're not worth the thought unless I decide they're worth the effort. Piers, for example... I still have no idea what to do or say... I still don't even know what I think, what I want. I want to help him really live. But I don't know how. I probably can't. I hope someone can. He's the only smile I've had in the last couple weeks. Well, other than Messner. But not much of that either. And then there's last night: streetmusician23: *sigh* I miss our good-old-days xxpirategirl: how so? xxpirategirl: what were the "good ol' days"? streetmusician23: middle school I guess streetmusician23: laughter streetmusician23: serious religion and suicide talks streetmusician23: back before I was french inhaling 100s and blowing smoke rings in the dark wondering why I'm still alive streetmusician23: oh well, at least I've got a buzz for the next 2 minutes streetmusician23: then what? Oh I guess I'll smoke some more and try to forget what normal life feels like streetmusician23: (back when I could talk to you like this and get a concerned response) xxpirategirl: YOU CAN BLOW SMOKE RINGS?!?!?!?! streetmusician23: yeah because I FUCKING SMOKE SO MUCH streetmusician23: goddamnit streetmusician23: back when we used to talk on the phone until 1 or 2 or 3 am or whenever they caught us and kicked us off (and sometimes again after that) streetmusician23: back when I felt I really had a friend streetmusician23: when I could tell secrets to my mom streetmusician23: without being afraid (that she can't take it, that she'll tell, that she'll be delusional, that she'll hit me) xxpirategirl: HOW'D YOU LEARN TO BLOW SMOKE RINGS!?!??!