I stood bewildered in the freezing cold, dress soaked to the bone, feet sinking into the mud. Slowly I came back to life, awake again, no rain, just my cluttered little bedroom. On impulse, I sat befire my typewriter to write. It made no sense, but very little does.

This should be the happiest week of my life. It isn’t. I’m running out of the drugs that make it bearable (such fun I had this week thoug!) and I’ve no money for more. Never any money. How is anything worth living without money. We’re half-starving on our best days.

Buy I’m determined to have fun. Fuck all the obstacles life chucks in my way. Fuck em.