~The little yellow one

So, I do have some writing from that time period, July of 1986 through January of 1987, although not much. Little bits, keys... just enough to keep the memories open to me. I had a little yellow notebook, not much bigger than my palm, and I'd jot notes down in it, sometimes a poem, sometimes a rant. Somehow it survived the 1988 purge. I'm very glad it did.

It's difficult to write about things though. So many stories... so many things happening all at once. My whole life has been like that. Intense.

The first phase of Drue had come to a head. I snapped. I quit the job I had. I headed back to West Philly, to the squat, where I felt I belonged. I took my baggage with me though. All the pain... the cuts that were always fresh and the anger that was always two minutes from becoming illegal. I took Drue, the ghost, with me too. Like I said.... all the pain.

When you bring the baggage with you, they'll find you... the ones who want you... who want your soul. They'll have gotten into one of your bags while you weren't looking, and will pop out when you least expect it. They'll step on you, and wait for you to crack. They'll take everything you've got, until they can get you back into the mold... until you put yourself back into it, willingly, begging for forgiveness.


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9/22/1986

I feel like shit. I am shit. I'm no one, no one cares. I'm down so low, I don't know what to do. I'm all alone, no one understands me, no one trys, no one ever will. It's my own fault. I'm a loser.