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Steal My Soul and Take My Life, Please before/after I am in hell. Some would call it visiting the parents for Christmas. One would think that being trapped in a car for nineteen hours straight would clear things up. Offer a little perspective. Not so. Not necessarily. I only have another chapter to the owners manual we all dictate, or need to dictate, to ourselves. And for me the chapters are looseleaf, and none of them match. It would be nice to have an arc. Some continuity. Mine looks like it was complied by a badger on acid, and is gibberish. Brutal honesty is on its way, and I have to wonder how much a dent it will put in my otherwise sunshiny demeanor. My soul can only take so much. Its all I have left, and I'm afraid its broken. Like a street urchin, I stand with the peices in my hands, mewling to the passers-by, and no one cares. I should like to be a souless fuck, but I would know that something is missing.
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