Who else hears this song and gets that feeling that you get when you're with someone you love and you can't hold on to them tight enough? Or the one you get when you see that beautiful someone across the room with a lit cig resting between their lips and you just wish they would have that moment where they look at you and you're the most amazing thing they had ever seen? Or what about that feeling where all you want to do is touch that one person, the one you know will never welcome your finger-tips again, and know that you'll always be special when you're lying together and they're keeping you warm?
Yeah, this song digs up some pretty intense emotions.
It's a new year my little pumpkin pies, what do you plan to do?
I plan to keep livin', rockin', remeberin' what it feels like to sleep on the streets and in a nice warm bed. I want to share with you the things that I've done and the places I've been but I'm sure that for the most part your stories are just as intense and beautiful and heartbreaking.
I'm going to share one with you that may change your perception of me a bit, and then maybe you can share one with me .
About half a year ago I met a boy that I thought could save my soul. For a year I had prayed every night to Jesus Christ that someone strong and beautiful would come into my life and take away all the pain of past relationships and past wrongs and all the disgust I felt about nights that I spent in the wrong persons bed being made to do things that I never wanted to do. And then I met that boy, and instead of fucking me and walking away he laid in bed and curled me into a ball so close to his body so that when I breathed we shared air. I thought that he was strong and smart and somewhere down the line when he pulled out a tinfoil wrapper full of light brown dirt I felt certain that he would keep me safe. And then longer down the line when we picked up and dropped off more of that golden brown I thought we were smart and invincible. In some way shape or form I was convinced that being a heroin dealer involved a lot more glimmer and glamor than a blue mini-van and a one bedroom condo with a broken sink. Except our kitchen was home to a full bar consisting of bottles of Grey Goose and Patron, and daily we would blow through up to $400.00 on food and booze and drugs. For a while, everything was wonderful. We could buy whatever we wanted and addicts of every kind bowed down at our feet, or so I thought. Until people started trading us blow for brown, and when I would go to sleep the boy that used to sleep next to me would stand over me with a knife and stab the air around me in a desperate attempt to kill the demons of his mind. And then one night, while I grabbed towels to absorb the sweat that ran down his body in rivers, I mentioned that our money was dissapearing, and that he might have a problem. He hit me until I fell into the coffee table in the living room, and then pulled me up and into the kitchen where he grabbed a knife and pressed it into my wrist, screaming through his own tears "Time to die, bitch!" where I responded, "You think you're all I've got to be afraid of?" and he yelled out and cut his own.
Well my dears, there's my story, one of many, so tell me one of yours, make it long or short, I don't care.
I want to know about your lives and what you've faced. I want to know what makes you happy and sad, I want to know the reason behind your smiles and tears .
I'll update this sometime when I have recent pictures, I look a good bit different than I did in my set.
For now these from quite some time ago will have to suffice.
So, I don't know how big those are, but there you go.
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i adore you