Just another day.

Today I should be so derned happy. Rode with the Icepick yesterday, am riding with the Sweetling this afternoon. Yes, clouds keep trying to gather. You folks know what that is, that's that ugly depression trying to worm it's way back in. Depression wants in so I can have an excuse to get high. Well, I'll be riding high soon enough, wearing the you-know-what eatin' grin that only Baby Doll brings, Until then IBOKIBOKIBOKIBOK. I only have to wait one more day and I can fulfill my promise to myself and get high as a kite. High all the pain goes away. Just one more day. That's what I told myself yesterday, too, and the day before that. Today I reneged on my promise, as I did yesterday and the day before, and before, and before. For tomorrow, I mean it this time. As I will mean it tomorrow and the day after, and after, and after... I'd rather owe myself that high the rest of my life than cheat myself out of it.

Getting stoned to forget the pain is wrong. Better to feel it, to deal with it. When neither of them are here, though, depression wants to be my lady, my merciful lady who will do whatever she has to to release me. I'm a soldier, I can take it, I've seen worse. IBOK. Ms. depression can put her clothes back on and leave me, and take her dope with her. My, but it's hard sometimes, though.

Being torn in two isn't all it's cracked up to be in the love stories. The empiness between the halves fills with pain, the wound is raw, the pain is much too real. Be very careful what you ask for, you might get it.

I have no God to help me get through this time, I have only me and thee.