If you can make the floor move under my feet, you're in. (10/26/06)

The knife that cut me was expertly sharpened - the wounding was quick. It'll heal nicely, already starting to scab. But trauma like that is bound to leave a scar. Whenever I look at it, I'll remember. And I'll be damned if I don't learn something this time. It won't be much longer that I take seven steps back for every step that I take forward. One day I'll win this knife fight. And this particular demon is gonna die. Bless.

As for you, maybe your place on the pedestal wasn't completely wasted...you can be the one revered as the ghost that I finally learned from, and laid to rest...RIP.

NOW. Let's just wait and see if I can supress the urge to pick the scab.

Here's what strikes me the most:

The difference in reaction from one person to another. Some people you just instinctively trust. Others get your gaurd up so high, there is no way they're climbin' those walls. And you get to the point where you don't even feel apologetic about it.

I know I don't.