Amonia-Scented Deodorant.

I swear, I'd burn this city down to show you the lights.

~PW.

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I'm on a patch of shaky ground. I apologise for getting out of hand the other night, you sensitive souls. My mind was racing on a mix of tranquilisers, over-tiredness, fickle self-confidence and Venlafaxine. Not a great combination to function on normally, but a bloody good one to get your head throwing you into a warped kind of perfection. I guess you could call it a mirage, or a kind of trick-reality, where you can feel good about yourself for fleeting seconds until the grime begins to seep from the cracks in the walls and run down to the floor like thick, polluted rivers. It was scary, for a while, but I think I may have to go back there.

But I'll write my thoughts elsewhere, so y'all don't have to battle through it.

Still on patrol here, pulling sentry duty and generally keeping things from spiralling out of control. Short-term memory is a valuable commodity, I have learned these last few days. We don't have much without it. It is like having a sink with no plug: trying to fill it up only leaves it inevitably empty, and you extremely frustrated. I think if I ever get to the age where my brains begin to go, I will blow them out of my head. It is easier and less painful on everyone I believe.

This has got to be short. I have to get back to matters of grave importance. This is fulltime work. The senile rarely sleep, so neither must I. I hope the stars are twinkling brightly in your individual skies. Send a wish up to the first one of the night for me. And tred quietly, the world needs a rest after the Chrsitmas period.

If you could keep only one memory, which would it be?