First log is backdated a few days.

Don't understand this. Really don't. Not sure if I'm even s'pose ta or not. Still, what's wrong with me? If it's even a wrong thing...

Don't wanna go back. Back means problems. Back means other people. Back means life and all tha complications that comes with it.

Meant ta be. Was it? Is this stuff planned out before we're even tykes? Hurts my head ta think on it too much...

Plannin' on things. Things I hope happen. America. Europe. Just us.

Fuck. There's something definitely wrong with me.



Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Son of a bitch. Kill him.



Sleepy. Tired. In pain.

Wanna drink. Can't drink.

Wanna smoke. Can I smoke?

Want fucking outta here...

Think I said something important. Can't remember what is was. Fucking meds.

Wonder where she always pops off to.

Have to ask her next time I see her. If she's 'round long enough for me to, anyway.

Still don't like that she sleeps in the ruddy park.



Fuckin' gobshite.

Sis and Bridget are gonna be pissed that I fought him - If you could call it a fight. - again. Don't care. Hate him too damn much to not fight him when I see him.

He's lucky I let him off easy.



One of these days, I'm gonna take somethin' of hers, and see how she likes runnin' 'round for it.

Knowin' her, she'd have fun.

The minx.



Damn it. One of these days, she might not pop off.

Forgot to ask her where she goes.

(OOC: This should not amuse me as much as it does. >D)

There are no thoughts. No words. Just drowned out silence.

Can't believe he was there, and Bridget knew he was gonna be. Guess in a way, it's payback for before, but still... No matter what Bridget says, I can't trust him. Not after what happened last time... And that's a damn good reason, in my eyes.

Not until I'm dead sure he's out of the running. And even then...


I'm actually starting to enjoy running into Zachery... if only for the reason I get to injure him every time I do. Though this time, he had a friend helping him. That blond guy that lives down the hall... R something.

I slipped up. Almost blew it, and was close to having to either do some excellent bullshitting, or tell the truth. Sugarpants, what in hell Lucky for me, bloody Zachery showed up, and distracted whateverhisname is from making me explain. Got out of there before he could remember to ask again.

Zachery owes me a bloody lighter.


Bridget came by. Wanted to talk about that Hollis guy.

I called her Jordan, and damn if I didn't mean it when I did. Fuck. She's so much like her, but at the same time...

I told her not to track her down. She only joked about, but she can't. Jordan can't know about me. Especially now. Especially after how I left her.

I have a daughter. Jordan must have found out after the car crash, there's no way she'd keep that from me... Emily Hope Silveira. Born October 9th, 1984.

Damn it. I don't know what's worse not having a dad at all, or having a dad like mine. ...For all I know, she thinks someone else is her dad.

They can't find out about me. And Otto sure as hell can't find out about them. I'll be damned if I put Jordan and our child in danger just because they can be associated with me.

So, the walking dessert has a weakness after all. And what an interesting one it is... Dunno who's enjoying the fact that it's fire more, me or the beatnik. Course, bet she could take advantage of it without gettin' burned, with all that hokeypokey voodoo crap she can do.

Eyebrow barbell got ripped out again. Can't complain too much, since I've kinda been wanting it to, but fuck, it hurts just as much as it did the first time. Least the burns took away ht focus of that pain, but I can't be too sure if that's a good thing or not.

Least I know bloody Zach got off worse than I did.

It's over. The break up. Whatever me and Genie have had. All of it's over. Which is good. Maybe now she'll forget me. Maybe I'll finally be able to forget her. Easier said than done since we have the same bloody boss. Forget her and go back ta being the bastard I was, if I can.

No way in hell am I goin' to that weddin'. I don't care if tha boss tells me ta or not. I ain't goin'.


( 'You/ are breaking up with /me?/' )

Sunset ain't lettin' me drink. Not today, at least. Thought holidays were meant for drinkin more not for Told me if I wanted to do something ta quit being mopey, go write a song or something. So I did.

Took me a while. I ain't wrote a song in a long time... Guess it was better than getting drunk, in the long run. Guess the song turned out okay, too. Lot more... weepy than I usually write, I guess, but at least it's a song.

No clue who it's about. Genie? Bridget? Or Angie and Sunset? ...Or all four? I hate when I write songs and don't know who tha hell they're about.


( Hello Lonely (Walk Away From This) )