My skin is itching, and it's keeping me awake.

I drag sharp nails across my chest, scratch my back until it bleeds, rub some supposed miracle cream all over but nothing seems to help. Is this what it comes down to?

I've been off the painkillers for three days now. First day was effortless.

He is on his way, in a cab as we speak. Father figure Frank is slowly moving through the night.

My sheets are stained with dark red spots. They smell like urine. Ive never longed for anyone, but if I were to start, I'd pick him and I'd pick now.

I feel like somethings alive inside of me, like my skin is trying to tell me something. In the mirror a horrid vision meets my eyes. I've scratched for hours, and now my back has the letter F in blood written over it. He will think I did this on purpose.

He's coming

I don't remember, A. I don't know who you are. Im sorry (Oh, I wish I was)

Father figure Frank called last night. I was dizzy from banging my head against the wall. There's no more T in my drawers. I need a doctor as liberal as my father figure. I need a pill as strong as she was. The girl from the alley. Let's call her Marla.

- Whats shakin, kid?

- How's LA, Franky?

We never really talk. We just exchange questions. None of us have any answers. We never had.

He's coming to London soon, something about Vouge, something about love.

- How soon is soon? Like, today?

- Like.. tomorrow kid. Clean up, get sober, kick out the lover you're hiding.

Riots and cake

They tried to burn down my city, you know. Where was I? Inside eating cake. Safe between thick concrete walls. Ive never really participated in anything, so the thought of starting then wasn't really.. well, thought.

But during all of the chaos, all of the mayhem that was caused, I couldn't help but to think of a man who wanted this to happen a long time a go. Somewhere far away, Tyler Durden sat half naked, with a cigaret between his lips and with the biggest smirk.

In so many ways, I wish I had a little bit of him in me. But Im just as exciting as the narrator. Just as empty.

Have you ever seen a human heart?

It looks like a fist covered in blood

Do you need LSD to write like that he asked

When dreams become a boring pause from the insanity that is real life (Big Brother, Jersey Shore, the real housewives..) drugs seem to be the last thing a girl would need. But then again, I've never really thought in terms of "need and should", on the contrary to be frank.

Lets be frank, lets talk about truth.

I never belonged anywhere. I finished first every single time. I got bored. I started doing things I knew I wasn't capable of, just to get my floating feet back on the ground. I applied for jobs which no boss in his right mind would give me, but they all did. I started viewing life as a game of which the rules where specific and clear, the instructions gave away all secrets. I started something I couldn't finish. Then I did.

And now, I just want you to pick me, chose me, love me.

Caligula made his horse senator. Clay wanted Rain.

Some choices aren't logical, but they (much like LSD) take you for a hell of a ride.