oh, just shoot me. I'd paint your walls with my brains but the blood on the windowsill said 'no.' Fickle, fickle observers. I've been contemplating talent. Nikki works for his talent, labored over his guitar until he was absolutely amazing. I've never worked a moment in my life for my talent. What does this mean;What does this mean? I feel like I'm missing a piece here- it's an equation and I can't quite find the key in. lame. meep. feels like there tens of dozens of butterflies beating at my inside. Pleasant? Maybe. I can't tell yet. Try back tomorrow. or better yet, don't. Tomorrow DDay. Rehab asessment tomorrow. So what am I doing? Good question. Munching on assorted pills like I'm Brandy fucking Alexander. ooooh. I love my life. Not that I'll be commited. I've just gotta turn on the charm and the pretty looks and I can get away with some nice antidepressants and some outpatient counseling. Not that I can be commited. I am Torie. I am Invincible. Right? Rght. ooooh. I love my life.

Yeah, you were right about me. But can I get myself back from underneath this guilt that will crush me? & in the choir I saw a sad messiah, He was bored & tired of my laments- Said; 'I died for you one time, but never again' Well I love you so much, but do me a favour baby- Don't reply. Cause I can dish it out, but I cant take it. Ah, I love the feeling of starting a new journal, a new blog. But I prefer the feeling of not feeling, so forgive me if I get too distant. One week & one day until that silly thing known as rehab. My parents don't know the half of it. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God. Too bad I don't believe in either of you. Ever see something so beautiful you just have to destroy it? Yeah; story of my life.