Hola Mis Amiga/Amigo
4/5/04

It's Kurt Cobain's death day. 10th year anniversary. I don't feel much. I'm just sad. But not the apathetic doll I had expected myself to be. I see none of that nonsense in me, none of that obnoxious attitude. I don't care for myself to be dolted on. I just don't want anyone's affections right now. No matter the relation, the thought behind heartfelt emotions. And I don't want help. The box cutter works just fine. It stays premanently and I'm proud for it to be my solitude. And there's really no need for recovery. I don't see the point since the blinding pain chills only the anxieties and calms the heart from beating too fast. It's addicting, really. I adore it. And someone knows just how much I love and care about a certain, tall, blond wonder I call my FRIEND. That person knows I wouldn't ever want HIM to try the heroin again, to touch the toxic shit and exceed to the crumbling sensation of extreme pleasure that's self destructive to his mentality. And I'm definitely sorry for your loss, Morgan. You listen, but you can't heed my words. So I'll just leave it as it is...for now, and just give her my kindest regrets. Ana Love, Jenn