192. A visit
10:12 p.m. & Saturday, Nov. 18, 2006
We had a visit from the police at midnight last night. They were such wankers.
The lady tried calling me a couple of hours before. I hung up on her and then switched my cell off after she tried to contact me again.
Neither of them had any right to be here.
How I hate screws.
I want to remember What takes a lifetime to forget
navigate
new
old
profile
contact
e-mail
notes
book
thanks
host
girl
I am me. Nothing more, nothing less. I write. I don?t write beautiful things. I write about things that happen to me. Things that come from my soul. Deep inside me. This is my life. This is my angst. This is my happiness. This is my joy. This is my sorrow, and my pain. I don?t consider myself a 'poet' in any manner. I consider myself a struggling teen just trying to get by in life. I've only a few things left to hold onto. And writing is one of those...
loves
loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves loves
hates
hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates hates