This was going to be an ode to drugs and alcohol under this title,
friends that have been there throughout the ruff and tumble. Those have
seen the really dark times as well as been part of the good times.
They've been the friends I've allowed myself to rely upon. They don't
talk back (often...just kidding) or have feelings I can hurt.
But then I thought about my other friend. It's something that changes.
It can be a knife, a screwdriver or anything that comes to hand. It's
the thing I cut with when I'm at my worst and . A strange friend that
scars me but helps me.
In the times when I don't get on with my entity or non-corporeal
consciousness it's these friends I've depended on to survive. Other
people simply wouldn't understand what I have to do to live through life
with this thing in my life.
It's pretty pathetic.
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