Wary of Life

I feel it creeping up again. It's like standing on the edge of a pool, dripping wet. It's cold up here, because I am still soaked from my swim.

I feel that Ian sometimes is trying to pull me back in to my death. He, as everyone else does, knows I can't swim. Peer Pressure. I don't want to die. But to breath like they do. Steam rising up from the warm waters, ushering me in.

All I know is, Ian and I must be a lot more careful then we were at Christmas-time. I have an idea folks, let's try not to fuck up each others lives

too much.


Happy Fourth of July.