Turned off the TV and lit another, pulled hard, and thought about a conversation I'd had several nights before. I'd been listening to these people talk and wondering whether or not is was wise to interject. It was late and the flavor was familiar, hard topics coated with hearsay and bottom lines with no more fortitude than a one-liner scratched into a bathroom stall. I said, I said, don't you know it don't mean nothing at all.

It escapes me now, the replies that they had. I know that I refuted them all with misunderstood words, small shards of my nails, and rude puffs of smoke. I singled them out with ideas that I knew they hated. I looked them in the eyes, one by one, but only for a second, a second they will never remember. I let them see my sickness, my openness, and then removed the ideas that threatened their personal safety. People's eyes are funny after that. They are purposely intense but only as thick as the skin of a bubble. You can watch them float or you can burst them with nothing more than gust of empty wind. But I am friendly, quick to change, and always ready gnaw at a loose piece of skin. You can mask the taste of coffee with milk and sugar but someday the additives won't be available and you will be stuck with bean water, which is what it really was all along. I left them with weird ideas like that and I am quite sure they were glad when I was gone.

I can't really remember ever wanting to be anything other than what I was. I never wanted to be a fire fighter, an athlete, or a rock star. I wanted more than anything to understand why people feel the way the do, and why they do the things that they can never take back. I've started fires and put them out. I have competed - won and lost. Now and again I pull out an old guitar and make like I am playing chords for an audience on the moon. I consume books like a fiend and from time to time I try my hand at making words for people to read. It's all senseless, like this, like that; anything you want is what I say. Don't tell me anything unless it is a confession. Pass me a smoke instead. Pour me a drink. Tell me a lie. Watch me cry. Fuck off for all I care.

Everyday I smoke and chew my nails. I watch people very closely while absorbing their inadequacies. I am the worst person you have ever dreamed of but I might be your best friend. Given the chance I might ignite you or feast upon your face, but then again I might touch you gently, offer some advise and let you in.

It's fucking hard to think when madmen control the world and everyone is telling lies…