People are telling me to give every thing away...

I'm leaving the memories behind but not all the things I worked so hard for. These are the comments I've gotten through this process: "Leave your TV's...they are the big ones right?" Yup, they work. "Don't take your bed." Where will I sleep? "Do you really need all the art work you've done?" This one made me laugh. "Do you need all your clothes and shoes?" No, I'll just come back to Texas bare ass necked. These questions are becoming moronic. Next time they are probably going to ask me if I can get rid of my dogs. I'm waiting for that fucking phone call.

"I'll stab your eyes out so you won't see how ugly you are in the morning."

That one woke me up.

Some times when the memories get bad...

I wake up at night to shit I want to forget.

I was running from him...he trapped me in the bedroom. I was cornered. He picked up a fan and threw it through a plate glass window and he walked away.

Guess who fixed that window?

I was a mess when I went to Home Depo. I had no clue that I had a bruse on cheek. I forgot that he slammed my face in the wall. I fixed that hole as well.

I guess my point is I'm tired of people juging me.

Come talk to me when some one has tried to kill you...then we can have a conversation.

If one more person tells me to get over it I might lose my mind.

Fuck you, fuck off and go fuck yourself...

it seems people want me to let go of things I hold dear.

Uh...NO.

For the move to Texas people keep telling me to throw away things.!

Okay.

The quote of the night was "We can't afford to move you back."

Okay. Then I won't move back.

"That's not what I meant."

Then what did you mean?

Pause..........................................................................................

"I have to go now."

Cool.

I threw things after that phone call.

How do you move twenty years...

In a month and a half...

Some one asked me a question at a bar one night. He said "If your house was on fire what would be the first three things you would grab?"

This question rings in my mind looking around my house but the answer is always the same...

Me, Ripley and Sasha, ever thing else can burn.

In reality I've got a lot of shit. It may seem like crap to other people but it's MINE.

People keep telling me to throw it all away. Really?

This does not set well with me.

'I think you are depressed, India...'

Okay. I always go with it. Then they proceed to tell me about how fucked up thier life is.

Fabulous.

My ears are really big...I can listen for hours.

In my noggin "Wow, you have a misrable life."

I can find beauty in any thing...most people can't.

I've always thought if people are telling you a certain thing they must be right because there is a charter flaw.

Wrong.

I like dark things.

It's becoming a crime.