Someone is here. The door creeps, and heels tap like a pyromaniac's assult on a deadly silent night. Vibrations from the parquetry floor climb up by my ankles, pulsing from inside. But i now hear and feel nothing. i've well over-dued this entry, haven't i? The update is really no update of any sort, but more a reminder of how i continue to be. i have been thinking about taking up a job in the UN, perhaps then i will feel some sort of political content about myself. Perhaps not. Mum sent me a letter via good ol' snail mail. She asks what i can get out of saying i hung out with "prisoners, murderers and drug dealers". The answer: Regret and shame. A good kick up the arse or two. A decent picture of a lifestyle many live. =Simple way of saying i don't really know/nothing. i want childhood back. i want a lot of things back. The phone rings. It's been a fucking journey i will write more soon. i can't think clearly. Kyle has to have cartilage in his knee reconstructed. 2143-011008 -edit- later on 1342-041008 it's funny how people seem to just "grow apart". there is always a line, the fine line a lady pushes further and further away, in hope of longer security. longer stability. but what we don't realise is how this destroys us, slowly but surely. love is a delicate thing. one day the thin line is crossed. between sanity and addiction. i chose sanity. there had been too many mistakes i made- for one, trying to change a drug addiction, already a firm ritual for 6 or so years. -for two, belief that he was always the person i saw him to be. i failed to remain open-minded. i failed. changing a drug addiction that was in control, for a boy who had just come out of prison, on home detention, with nothing better to do. was i stupid? i was naive. he went to search for a different medicine, of course. weed lead to speed, which lead to antidepressants and antipsychotics, which lead to methadone, which lead to more needles, and more, and more. 2) to believe while in love is to lead oneself astray. he was someone i really didn't know at all. someone i couldn't trust, but believed i could. someone i couldn't live with, talk to, experience things with, but i believed i could. which leaves me now in Australia. with nothing. no money. no car. no new clothes. no jewellery. no furniture. no frothy machine. no doughnut maker. no friends. no family. no booze, drugs, sex or rock and roll. no job. money owed. no nice christmas bra, even. i traded it all for him. and look where it got me. to think that he was too naive to go back to where i'd come from. fuck.