Dec 15, 2005 17:56
Everything hurts. Especially the throat.
Maybe the heart.
At least I have a job to go back to. At least I have good friends. At least I have good records and good drugs. Surgury doesn't have many upsides.
My life is about to change.
I can't eat. I can't sleep. I am a monster.
I want to live the life of John Wayne, so I will.
When this golden throat is healed, it will begin.
There will be Whiskey. There will be new tattoos. There will be solitude and Patsy Cline records.
There will be no more bull shit. No more Seattle.
No more heartache.
So give me a week. Heal me up right and send me off.
Have fun without me.
Sincerely,
Wasted.