Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008 11:12 am

Almost home. When this damned tour is over, there are two habits I need to kick. One of them is Frank Montrose.

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Friday, September 5th, 2008 7:38 pm

The End is near

Two more shows, and the tour is over. Thank God. I'm starting to feel like Nikki Sixx in the "Heroin Diaries". I feel myself on the precipice of disaster, and I want it to stop. I'm addicted to him. I'm addicted to what we do. I'm addicted to what we take when we do it. I can't sleep without it. I can't screw without it. I don't like this. I don't want this. As soon as we hit LA, I'm going to a clinic, a doctor, something. I'm also changing my cell #, and cutting him from my life first thing. He's dragged me into a web prison, and I need to escape before it gets worse. It's like standing in quicksand, but there's still a branch, several branches within reach. You can bet that I am going to grab one and hold on for dear life.

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Tuesday, September 30th, 2008 5:35 pm

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
And fall down hard.
Punishment due for the sins of the flesh.
Punishment due for the drugs.
Punishment due for Frank.

Again, I welcomed a guy into my life with open legs, and he came at the mirror that is my life at full speed with a sledgehammer. But, I've no one to blame but myself. I've learned that a lot over the last month in rehab.

Rehab? Oh yes. Remember me and Frank's little pill popping habit at the end of the summer tour? Fun, fun. Oxycontin is LOTS of fun. You feel all fuzzy, stoned, relaxed, and one other thing that no one tells you about. Vulnerable. Wide open and strapped down ready for slaughter.

I came off the tour addicted to pills, addicted to Frank, and even though I've kicked the two former poisons out of my life, there are permanent scars and reminders to live with. I kicked the pills in a couple of weeks, came home, called EZ up, and he came over to stay and is keeping me company while I deal with other issues. Oh, fucking A Soph, just say it, just write it.

I'm pregnant. That makes three people that know now. You, me, and EZ. He's an angel, that's why he doesn't have sex with me. He took the news FAR better than I did, and he's willing to step up and be "the baby daddy" even though neither he, nor his chromosomes are responsible for this. He's either a saint, or INsain. I haven't figured out which.

I'm afraid of Frank finding out. Terrified. He didn't take getting dumped by phone by me well, and he's convinced from time to time, (judging by his voice mails) that we are STILL an item. WTF? Talk about delusional Fanboy. We were FUCKING. Nothing more. He seems to have forgotten that for some reason, and doesn't want to let go. Jesus Frank, go find some blonde sperm dumpster half your age and move ON. I think it's more than the sex I am afraid to say. I think it's power. Control. He had me on puppet strings for months, and now he's missing his toy.

CJ? Lord, that will be Armageddon. Considering a new CD is being worked on as I type this, and then of course another tour, and yadda yadda yadda. Fuck. FUCK!

I don't hate the baby. I wasn't ready for this, (Same story as before) and let my guard and panties down when I knew I shouldn't have. (Same story as before) and so it's second verse, same as the first.

EZ's back with take out. Ciao.

Current Mood: discontent

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