i have done a wonderful job at floating through months as my cardboard cut out character in the book/my life/i was avoiding. half-smile-half-life. now, owning up to myself and step by baby step coming in to my own, i can see how i have wasted. and i can see how frightening the person i am with out a smoke stained veneer is. andrew and i used to talk about choice and addiction and i always had that in mind as i started smoking more and taking anything i could get. he went to jail and i chose to remove myself too starting with a massive line of k to trip away for a while-til i got my hand on my own pipe and then a collection; then an obsession, then an illness. i just kinda stumbled through all the months, one hand clutching my stomach in pain the other tightly clinging to my pipe, or a beer if it was over. the sickness is more in the escape than in the decay of my body, i know that. sicker is how i felt nothing sleeping around on andrew, fucking off life for drugs and empty company. nothing's real, i just kept saying, nothing can hurt me, and it wouldn't- i was cold in all sense of the word. ice queen feels nothing, except maybe that pain in my stomach and embarrasment/fear shitting my pants on a main street because i hadn't had ice for a couple of days and my body didn't know how to cope...

i don't know how to finish this blog...it's not finished yet...

i wanted to forget losing andrew to FUCKING BEECHWORTH (now i hear he's fucking muscles/ and he's going to be a junkie WITHOUT ME he had the fucking ordasity to wish me got luck with WWJD admit it WHACKING UP we just wanted it all we thought we were PERFECT i CHOSE another way I LOST MY WAY but i needed US andrew andrew)and i wanted to forget losing mel I LOST ANDREW AND REALITY. i am terrifed of reality and my mind living in capital letters and strange punctuation.

i remember this. i remember why i tried to escape it.