Just broke my mums glass shot glass from ireland. it was an accident. but that didnt prevent me from enjoying the shattering of glass. So much reminding me of my friend Sha's life.
Shes stole. and gotten caught. She cuts herself, and is Manic Depressive. And god save me, I feel like crying my eyes out, i love her to death, and she does all these horriable things. It gives me that feeling of hatred for other people who make people like me and Sha's life living hell. If life is suppose to be a gift...then why the hell is it like this? Im to the point of tears, and no one is here to hear me. To comfort me. Cande left, bless her, my only comfort in which I can tell everything. Sylvia left awhile ago, forevermore the caring one. But yet...im afraid both would not understand, no one does. And now I sit here, in utter silence, the clicking of the computer keys my own comfort now. My mother is wasting herself away in the recliner, reading her newest romance novel. Did I not tell you? thats all she does. She was suppose to start nursing back up in Jan. but no. Shes still in that damn chair, becoming the anorexic that she is. She does nothing, but read. Doesnt eat. And her excuse is, "I eat when Im hungry." And fuck, im worried about that. I love her to death, but she just sits there, blocking out the outside world, her addiction of Diet Coke and Newports her only comfort. And then again comes the theory. If this is life, then what the fuck is death going to feel like? This Layout is to happy for me. I was happier earlier, but that was before god took my naive side from me today. I must change this layout.
Courtney