My memory is so short it's sick. I realize this more and more, and I don't know whether it's a good thing or a bad one. I forget so quickly that I need to watch my blood sugar, but I only went to the hospital three days ago. I forget I hate drugs, but I ODed last month and I went to rehab less than three years ago. I forget that alcohol kicks me in the ass if I drink too much. I haven't fucked up, but I sort of feel like if I don't keep reminding myself how to stay safe, I'll say fuck it and fuck myself over. So I keep reminding myself, either writing, here or elsewhere, or by talking to friends, or other shit that just annoys everyone, but whether they realize it or not, it keeps me alive. It really does. So I'll keep annoying everyone by talking about drugs and about diabetes and about sex.

I am sort of scared. But not scared enough to lock myself up and isolate or get hurt. I'm just scared enough to motivate me. Or am I? I haven't left the house today...

I wish I could call Scotty, but I can't speak. My throat is dead. I want to see him, damnit. Last night was amazing...

'Spent my whole life, yeah, doing things my way, doing unto others, knowing it's wrong. When's the last time you looked in the mirror? When's the last time you liked what you saw?' ----'Gotta Know The Rules' by Social Distortian