the silent sound of surrender

James is back. Alive. In one piece. Same with his men.
Yo sexy lady,

I am alive. Son of a bitch that was an interesting situation. Close calls. Damn close. No scars. A couple burns but no scars. However, sadly I lost my bandanna with the hearts on them. My friend chris got a bullet to the arm and we needed a tourniquet. He's fine but I think I'm going to let him keep it. But now I'm out a wicked sweet bandanna. Hook me up baby.

I have to go to sleep. i've been awake since saturday. I smell like blood sweat and engine oil too. Thats gotta be sexy.

I'll talk to you later love,

your soldier boy
James

No more late nights worrying...till the next time I get one of those emails from him. But whatever, goes with the territory I guess.

I used to make these little bags of pills up. Kill bags, I called them, filled with enough tranqs to kill a walrus ten times over. I hid them all over my room, in bags, pillowcases, wherever. But always within reach, so if things ever got to the point where I needed out for good, I could grab one and just fall asleep. Strangely enough, it was that bad constantly. But the two times I went to out myself, I never went for those pills. It was the blade and the classic painkillers chased with a bottle of Absolut. But whoops, I'm still here. I couldn't even die right. I think that was the most depressing thing, not even being able to out myself correctly.

I found one of the bags earlier, in with my first pair of pointe shoes. I threw out the bag, kept the shoes.

And I feel better already.