  And so it's another night in the past. I dressed "scungy", and fuck did it ever feel good. I forgot I even owned those pants. Well, they haven't been pants for a while...they turned into shorts right before one of the Broomfiller concerts. If felt good to be drunk. So drunk that I was drifting in and out of consiousness for a while, just laying on the floor, listening to the rap music on the television. It felt good to be drunk. To kill selected memories, to kill selected personalitiy traits. To kill selected parts of myself. It felt good to be there, hungover this morning, feeling like shit. Feeling like dead. *THERE IS ONE MORE PARAGRAPH, HOWEVER, IT'S BEEN CENSORED IN AN EFFORT TO KEEP ME OUT OF TROUBLE* 
