Guns don't kill people. People kill people. And you can't change people. So get rid of guns. Seems so simple, doesn't it? No. because there's always that one man in the national rifle association that wants to keep his gun, so he's gonna call a lawyer, who's gonna call a specialist, who's gonna call a judge and soon we think keeping guns around is a lot easier than pissing rich people off. One of the many philosophies of life. Get rich or die trying. Do I like 50 cent? Not with a single bone in my body, but it's true. Reread, don't skip. I mean what I say. And we as people think we can trust anyone who donates to a hospital. Plenty of child molesters donate. My daddy gave us money to live and that didn't stop him. Okay, okay. I'm getting ahead of myself here. How many times of you seen a lost little girl or boy on the street crying for the their mommies and daddies? It happens a lot more often than we believe. What do you define little? I guess that's where I'm getting. I saw one today, a 17 year old kid sleeping on the sidewalk with his backpack as a pillow and I just stared and tried to figure out how loud he was screaming. Maybe as loud as I was. Maybe we were drowning each other out. As loud as it gets, I walked home anyway. I probably won't see him for about week, till the daily news hits with a dead teenager on the front page. Maybe if I wasn't cynical, I'd have an excuse to have these beliefs. But I'm not. I don't see the bright side. The darker side is just more interesting. It is for everyone. What would you rather watch? The spirit channel or the latest fight on Survivor? I just have a more poetic way of it. Or maybe just a more direct way. Mind fuck, head screw. Both the same. But different. I wasn't looking for home, just walking towards it because I don't want to go home. I want to talk to someone about the future. About the past and present and I wanna be left stunned because I wanna think. I like to think. This whole thing is my thought, after all and I couldn't be more confused. Not that it matters. Okay, so I'm not on my way home. I'm going to my therapist and I'm not sure what I feel. I usually get numb around this time. Some call me a little girl screaming for attention and I hide under the clothes I wear. Ironic that I hide under hardly anything. Lack there of, if you will. But the real irony is in the steps. Step one, go to sleep. Step two, repeat step one. I'm wearing my night clothes because I waited till the last minute before I got ready. Because the last minute is the only minute. Every other minute is a pointless, a meaningless void of time leading up to that of the last minute. the last minute is even more important than the event itself, because the last minute is the last thing you see before it all changes. The last minute is what we all work for. When the event is passed, we want that last minute back again.