--- What this pretty little picture does not include, however, is the fact that self-destruction is a freeway and I am certainly not a passenger. I know you all see it; I do, and so do those that love me. The part I cannot explain is why sometimes I seem to be pressing my foot to the pedal, pedal to the floor, waiting to get pulled over before the last exit. (a little dramatic, but in my come-down state of mind, showering, this is how it appeared.) Before you see that as a cry for help, for someone to intervene, know this: the cop's name is Self-Preservation, and we have had many run-ins before. She raised me, fed me, sent me into the world. She won't let me escape her now. Yes, I can see now that this is not myself talking. I will look back and laugh. Nothing is that dire, obviously. I am happier than I have been in a long time. Great friends, freedom, and the love of a man that I love in turn. My only problem right now is a little stress, no sleep, no food, and a chemical bloodstream. --- In other news, although it has been two months, this page has just today recognized the fact that I am a year older. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me.