Ah, so here we come to the part that I think that most people are great at and I am sure the only where we can truly become analytical. We open up ourselves to the shears only on the inside. I know what my posion is and I love the taste of it. I love the loathing that I go through, a sort of withdrawl where I quake and desire the venom even more than before. The cat, fuk the cat, I came back. I hede no advice for I know what is right and wrong but I chose the path with the jaddged rocks. I like the sight of my blood being spilt. I always fall for the ones who are just too screwed up to ever really like me and I am sure, if they for a second liked me all interest would wane. Am I complicated, nah, I am just a bitch.
I live for the moment, I know I am going to die so why do anything half ass. I mean there are those times when I have been up since 2 and can't conjur a magic carpet to get me to Madagascar but there are times that I try.