My Turn.

Well, looks like it might be my turn. I noticed some age spots—what?! Say it ain't so! On the most fabtabulous, wonderful, rocking (no idea why I was always rocking) Lisa?!—on my arms, and one of them is not like the others. It's more like a closed sore that is like a scab, but a soft, sore one (see the above picture). It's not a mole; moles aren't sores.

The little voice in my head is telling me it's skin cancer (years of burning your skin for a tan—baby oil, and that Banana Boat stuff from the tanning salon—can do that). You know me. When it's my time to go, it's my time to go. I don't trust doctors, their medicine, or anything about them. If my body can't fight it on its own, then my expiration date has arrived, and that makes me very happy!! I have lived a fucked up life, and the ONLY person who has NEVER screwed me over (not counting colleagues at work) was Sam. Family, immediate friends, it's like my friendship came with a price tag, you know? How much can we screw her over before she says, "fuck you."

I'm not there yet. Not losing weight. I would say within the next five years, I will no longer cease to exist, but we will see. I always said I would be alone when I left this world.

Don't feel sorry for me. No tears. When I tried taking my own life (multiple times) this last time (about 15 years ago), it SHOULD'VE worked (I laid my arm open so badly that it looked like a Sci-Fi project). It didn't. I barely bled. I knew the Lord wasn't done with me yet. After I left the psych ward (the usual 72 hours—the shrink TOLD me to leave my family because they were killing me). I promised the lord I would not try it again, and deleted my "family" from my life. I kept praying and praying for him to allow me to come home, especially now that Sam is gone and I am truly alone. Shh, don't tell me you are there for me; it's not the same thing, and you know it. I don't want anyone else around me. Looks like my prayers might finally be answered.

It's not a definite, I'll keep track of my body for updates, but I don't know… the little voice in my head has not been wrong yet. He told me to leave Keith's and go to Sam's because he would need me. He told me Sam was dying before the doctors did; He told me that Sam was going to die that weekend, and now, He's telling me that I have skin cancer and to finish the books.

I will keep the blog posted of updates ONLY. So if you are reading this, you know. If not… sucks to be you. If you want to keep up to date with me, I suggest you follow the blog. You can comment; I won't bite you.

I'm working on Book Four and Karma, so I will keep you posted. I will start posting Book Four for now. We had a good bit done; I just have to finish the rest.

Remember, don't try to talk me into this or that because I do not want to be on this planet… without Sam. You guys can live through Sodom and Gomorrah part two without me, I'm good.