some random girl in some random story with no random ending. close to living on the edge. edge the on living to close. i. n. s. a. n. i. t. y. is an illness with no cure. a wound with no bandage. my ailment. through and through. "you look barely old enough to be in highschool." ive lived a million years in only 25. i live in fast forward. no pause. no rewind. no slow motion. no stopping. constant going. constant flashes of life right before my eyes. only long enough to feel the end result. only long enough to feel the burn. the rash of life. the burn of life. the needle poking. blood spilling. drug taking. face beating. car crashing. fucking bullshit of life. ----------------------- ill be homeless soon. well partially homeless. i cant take on the title of homeless if i still have a job. i mean there are far more with far less then i. ill be kind-a homeless. ill have money. but no rent to pay yet. ill still work my job. but no real place to go afterwards. ill sleep some times. ill eat some times. ill bathe mostly hopefully everyday. as long as im clean and fed and get a heads rest here and there. i figure ill be fine. its funny how you watch yourself crash down. how you know. you know the exact end result of your continued actions. and how. knowing the exact end. you still continue to keep up the same old habits. the same fucked behavior. the same dumbass shit. even though you know. the outcome. i had it easy here. and that wasnt good enough. so i tore it all down again and now. i need to rebuild. bring it all up. survive again. make up for my mistakes again. lessen my load. and learn my lesson. ------------------------------------- this would be easier if i didnt have some jewish indian chasing me around. literally. the guy is nuts. i cant even begin to explain. hes married. hes troubled. and he thinks for some strange fucking reason or another that i actually care to know him. in any way. fucking unbelievable. ------------------------------- to add to the stress of things. now i need to gamble on joe. and my car. and my money. and just my rep. im beginning to wonder if the stress in my life is what keeps me young. looking young. acting young. being young. i dont know. i wish my mother were around so we could talk about this story of my life. this mess of my life. this disaster. i wish heaven had long distance or at least email. id even settle for postal service. id write her a nice long letter. and wait for her longer letter to arrive. i miss you mom.