Its getting close to my birthday. Im going be 21. Then I can buy stuff to kill my liver, and it will be legal. Yes I can see it now, yet somehow pukeing till my eyes bleed doesnt sound like 2 much fun. Although that idea never would have occurred to me before. I suppose during the great days of 12th street it wouldn't have stopped me. All I really wanted was friends, and people to like and respect me for who I was.
But who was I? I didnt realize, ok I did realize, but at the time I didnt care, when I should have, that I was causing my childhood friend sickness. I wouldnt blame her if she never spoke to me again, yet oddly enough we still send each other comments via that horrible myspace. I know that we have spoken more on there than we did when we lived with each other. Im sorry that I caused so much shit, and that I am the main reason she was sick a lot.
But if I could take it all back I wouldnt; sure I would have found a way to keep my room cleaner and a way to vent the smoke away from her. But I had fun, and learned a lot. Maybe nothing really important, but it sure was a hell of a ride. And I had fun. The good times, the bad times. The laughter, the tears. ( 3 different girls in seprate rooms, all crying over different things, each hear a knock on the door. Then you hear a collective sniffel and each hopes it is one of their guy friends to help cheer them up.) Never knowing who (or what) you would find on the couch or in the floor in the morning. Or what they had been on the night befor. With the exception of Jill, we probably should have all died, but I am so thankful that nobody did.
Ill also tell you this, after everyone left, I would have burned down that fucking house, even if it ment loosing all my shit. It would have been worth it. but I didnt and I know that I shouldnt have. Because I somehow would have been caught, but enough of that right now.
I'll finish this later.
