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HERE WE FUCKING GO NOW...



Incase anybody's confused or doesn't get me:



I REALLY DON'T GIVE TWO SHITS. About myself, about a lotta people. I love my mates, I'm crazy about my boyfriend and ninjutsu calms me down..



I drink a lot, smoke a lot and do a lotta drugs (we'll not go too far into that) but I'm searching for the ultimate good time. I spent a full year last year living literally out of the back of a van as I travelled around, looking for people and places to excite me. Met many amazing people, took a shower in some of their houses.. It was fucking great. Me, Murph, Cassie and Syd. Was a laugh.



Basically, I don't care how I look and material things don't matter much to me. I want to love, have fun, stay high and revolutionise peoples thinking. I want to instigate a mental freedom among the people, a love between the cultures. Most of all? I want to have a fucking laugh.



Right, that's it. Got that? Good :)

COMMENTS

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DarkCrystal
16:20 Apr 16 2011

Do you or have you tried any meditations?

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GubbiexViciousx
09:45 Apr 19 2011

No... Should I? I genuinely wouldn't know where to start:')

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POST COMMENT

Cocaine killed my community

Heroin hurt my home

I don't really know how to speak the right words

But I can't protect you in this crazy world

My brothers ate up a pack of rohypnal

My sister, she took the bitter pill

I know two guys who got shot late

Selling hash at the school gates

HOW can I protect you in this crazy world.



It's fairly shit, but it wasn't trying to be a poem, just something. I don't know. I can't think of a suitable name for it.



Peace and anarchy x

Listen, this sounds so stupid, but I've really gotta write this somewhere. For three years I've had this in my head, three years I've been to scared to talk about it for fear of breaking down in tears.



My best mate was called Billy, he was fucking amazing. Everyone thought we were secretly together, but y'know, that always happens.



He was a heroin addict, I'd sat by him through all the relapses when he'd been trying to get clean, all the phonecalls at three in the morning off dealers threatening to kill him if he didn't pay up. This felt different though, this time, he was dying and I could see it in him. He wasn't even trying to stop now. He'd just stare blankly right through me.



I was there, y'know. When he died. Murph was holding his tiny frame with such care as if it would break in his arms. Blood trickled between his fingers as he tried to stop Billy from bleeding out. Accidental suicide they called it, but he knew exactly what he was doing. It was an artery that he'd slashed with the needle, they said he'd fallen asleep with a needle in his arm and his artery has punctured, then it just kept pumping out. It looked like a fucking fountain as the pulse squeezed between Murph's fingers and splashed onto the laminate flooring of his flat.



I remember him screaming at the pain of it, and how sudden the screams stopped as he went unconscious. They managed to steady him in the hospital, but they couldn't help him. He said things, but we couldn't really make out what they were.



Infront of me lay the boy who'd risked his life for me and pushed me out of the way of oncoming traffic on a main road. This was the boy who'd spent his entire life trying to fit in. This was the boy who made everyone around him just love him.



I don't know why I'm telling you this.