Make a list of things you do when you can't sleep.

1. Write.
2. Play guitar.
3. Think.
4. Try NOT to think.
5. Read.
6. Message people on the internet.
7. Phone Chris - he's awake himself most times.

Make a list of things you wish you could remember.

1. Where I went during those two years.
2. What I did during those two years.
3. Who I met during those two years.
4. What I took during those two years.
5. Quite a lot of that first week I left Nessa.
6. Quite of the week before, during and after the first anniversary.

Make a list of things you can't watch.

1. American Psycho.
2. Memento.
3. Trainspotting.
4. Anything with drug abuse in it.
5. Anything to do with miscarriage.
6. Anything to do with overdosing.
7. Old GSW/SS666 videos.

Make a list of people who make you smile.

1. Becca
2. Sweep
3. Steph
4. Willem
5. Victoria
6. Jonesy
7. The rest of the band.

- Root Beer.
- Bananas.
- Red grapes.
- DS games. (Take people to choose)
- Nilla Wafers.
- Jello banana pudding mix.
- Cool Whip.
- Meat - steak/chicken/pork (maybe?)
- Potatoes.
- Carrots.
- Broccoli.
- OJ.
- Chips. (Cool Ranch Doritos)
- Bread. (x2 brown, x2 white, x1 rye)
- Milk. (2 gallon 2%)
- Candy.
- Burgers.
- Frozen fries.

Five times you ran and one time you didn't.

"It's not the point, Thomas, the point is-"

He cut her off immediately, trying to ignore the reeling in his stomach, the way his veins seemed to burn, needing the hit, needing the sweetness and the oblivion.

"First, it's not of your fucking business, mother. It's none of your business who I fuck, or what I take. None." The last word was hissed dangerously, his stomach clenching again and he found that he was shivering.

"Look at you, you can't even stand up, Casper!" His uncle now, a strange kind of smug smile on his face that Caz longed to wipe off. To hit him, to pound his head into the tarmac and the thought nearly made him laugh and retch at the same time.

Caz growled, his muscles aching and it would be so easy to just...

"Just go."

He watched his mother and there was something in her eyes that was both final and yet curious, almost sad and some part of him wondered if she actually meant this, meant what he was saying, whether she actually wanted him to leave because it hadn't always been like this...

"But-"

"Go, Casper. Go and do whatever it is that you want but I will be damned if you'll do it under my roof, boy." His father was more angry than his mother, more determined, more set in his ways. He meant it.

Maybe that's what made him turn away, maybe that's what made him grab his bag, take a deep breath and murmur; "You never believed I could do it, that I was better than that."

"No. We didn't." His mother's voice was the last thing he heard, echoing in his ears as he lifted his chin and with as much dignity as he could manage, slowly walked away.

----------

Carefully he walked around the room, gathering what little possessions he had. He was high, so completely high that it was a miracle he could stand up let alone get enough coherency together to do even the most simple tasks. But surprisingly enough he was quiet enough that Sweep, who slept surprisingly lightly, did not wake up.

He was glad of the fact, he didn't want to explain what he was doing, why he had to do it.

"It'll be better when..." he started to speak under his breath before stopping and shaking his head. He didn't leave a note, didn't wake him to tell him where he was going - he didn't even know where he was going but he needed to get away. Sweep would be better if he wasn't around to hurt him or to make him hurt any more.

They all would be, what good was he?

He picked his bag up and quietly slipped out the door.

----------

Her tears, the pain in her voice as she called to him make his heart and his stomach clench but he had to get away. She called after him, begging him, pleading with him to stop, to turn around, not to walk away but he didn't stop, couldn't.

Their child, his life, his future washed away in the blink of an eye and she deserved better than he'd ever be, she deserved so much more than a worthless junkie could ever give her, and maybe his mother was right - he'd never be anything more than he was now.

He was glad that it was raining so she couldn't see and he wouldn't acknowledge the tears that were falling freely down his face.

----------

"It's easy, just say yes. You love me, so why won't you fucking settle down?"

"Because I'm not meant to settle down, Tina," he growled the words, and he couldn't look at her, wouldn't look at her because she...he wasn't meant to do this, not with her, not now, not after...

He felt himself retch violently at the memory of Janessa, of his love for her which even now was buried so deeply within him that even the slightest thought made him hurt unbearably. He'd been stupid, foolish and now he'd never be able to get it back. It had been five months and he'd not even had so much as a letter, a phone call, friends had seen her, she seemed okay or she put on a good show... with a new man, happy.

He wasn't sure which hurt more.

Caz looked down at the ring Tina held in her hand, glinting up at him.

He shook his head again.

"Casper, we have a child on the way," her voice had taken on a dangerous tone now, the tone it took when she was desperately displeased and about to do something serious.

"I don't care!" he almost spat the words as he turned on his heels and ran.

Bleeker had good shit. Bleeker would help him forget.

----------

He backed up squarely against the wall, waiting, his breathing hard and fast and he prays to anyone that might be listening that he doesn't get caught. His head spins as he tries to get a hold of his stomach and he fails miserably as what little he's eaten comes up all over the sidewalk.

"Shit," he murmured, knowing for sure now that his cover must be blown.

"Come out come out wherever you are," a voice sing songs and he freezes, the syringes like a lead weight in his inside pocket. He knew it was stupid, more than stupid, he knew that to steal them would be fatal but he needed one more hit....just one more.

He holds his breath as a shadow flicks past him, than another, on the other wall and he knows they're close. He hears the squeal of a cat and then a gunshot and when he's sure they can't hear him he darts out, running to another hiding place. His stomach lurches again but he manages to hold it in this time as the same voice calls again, rougher this time.

"Because you're pissing me off Casper Penn, you can have this one, but if you EVER so much as show your fucking face ever AGAIN in this whole fucking state, your balls are mine."

He hears footsteps moving away, low murmurs of voices and he slowly lets his breath out in a relieved sob.

----------

He closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath, his whole body relaxing as she pulls him close, massaging his neck and shoulders and even his temples as she tries to work out the knots that have forming on top of one another as the day progresses.

Two days now, two days and with every breath he feels like he's going to die but he knows that she feels it too. Two days and with every heart beat the shaking and the nausea gets worse, with every tap of his foot against the bedpost it feels like his head is going to split in two.

And he looks in her eyes, red and bloodshot with lack of sleep and pain and even though they've taken their potions for today it still hurts unbearably.

"Need-" he goes to say but she stops him.

"No more running, Casper."

And he closes his eyes, and stays.

The Rules:
1. You can only say YES or NO!
2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone comments to the entry and asks!

( Under Here )

- Get a tie.
- Work out what exactly I need to take tomorrow for Willem.
- Get Willem a LA Kings hat.
- Get a pair of dress shoes.
- Write a couple of letters.
- Actually SEND said letters.
- Force self to forget.
- Don't do anything to destroy my argument to the court.
- Especially THAT.
- Or that.

I have a present for you.

On the table there is a lot of boxes