and im here. writing. and im trying to abandon a seriously bad habit because throwing up blood is just too much some times. i love the drink. but i love feeling good more. besides. the times come i suppose. to shift it all into order somehow. to get it all started somehow. to become real somehow. after being pretend for so long i wonder if being real is possible. im just an idea my mother had. im just a memory i cant remember anymore. and im fading too much. too quickly. and allowing it all to crumble because i preder chaos before order. but i need some order. and i do miss home. but if i return. will i leave. i have to know for sure i will. because. i cant remain there in that insane little town with the same things happening everyday. bleh. stop. whining. time to get moving. make it happen. that boy back home owns and sells and makes money. all over ambition? bleh. time to move. it up a bit. and this computer is getting worse. i need to fix it. and its going to be a fucking pain.