When the windshield fogs, you can see everything I've written.

Funny how the same weather that makes people want to kill themselves makes me feel clean and reborn. Nastolgic. Partly due to the oil tracing back to fingertips that I own. It's somewhat embarassing, sitting in the driver's seat hoping that nobody else in the car can see the words I am alone smudged onto glass. Even I find things I've written that I've forgotten were there.

Things lately have been odd and unpredictable, but as I told Coree time and time again today, there are only two things in the world you can count on: yourself and cigarettes.

And you can probably count on the latter more often.

--Lauren

[what was ... what will be]