I miss my friend. She's somewhere in a crack house in the next city. I haven't spoken to her since the fall when she got out of rehab. She called me from Newfoundland to say that she had just gotten out of rehab and was staying with a friend of the fmaily on a fram in the middle of nowhere, I've been worried for a long time wthat I would eventually hear that she was dead. She's a crack ho! I can never adssocitat that humerously again.
I love her... I've loved her since she was thirteen years old. I remmeber what she was then, and I'v eseen her slip away since, farther and arffarther tlike a bota with no rudder. I don't want to lose hyer but I'm afraind she's already lost.
She may have an std no w because of the prostitution, they found a lesion pon her cervix.
I see her in a blinding light, a daisy chain around her head. Before she cut off all her hari and weighed 95 pounds. I remember her smile, and her freckles. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life, and I loved her. I'm afraid I'll never see her again.
It's as though she's already dead. And here I am drowning my sorrows with the same lack of regard for my self... Im so angry but I'm going to have another drink. I'm thinking too much tonight. My room mate will come homw and see that I've been drinkihng and what will he say... will he feel just like I do with my frined... I'm agnryu and tired of being alonge