last time i was in the hospital, when i was 21.
i cut my wrists, it became messy, someone called ambulance,
they discharged with a lot of strange meds, there was bunch of police,
handcuffs, interrogations, i was angry like hell and nothing made sense.
angry mostly because i did live, even though i did not give a shit about it.

one year after, i learned that life on crossroads, a little tequila, sex, money.
a little of something needed can change every angle of procrastination.
really. i did not find any free minute to kill myself (or think about it) ever since.

i spent the night of Sunday in ER. do you know how much it fucking cost?
3000S for one night, where that stitching IV drove everything out of me.
you can not move and it hurts, you try to move and it hurts even more. nah.
your adorable doctor, being in charge (so much for doing if you were more alive?)
is holding your hand and telling you it is okay, but you can not drink because there
is a chance you will bleed out in hours and throw up your viscera right away.

i am a tough girl, they taught me good.
probably that is why i got lucky and got away with just a hell of bruising.
no corsets, no hamburger instead of my internal organs, not much bleeding.

i do not know.
it is not that i desperately wanted to live. it does not matter much, anyway.
my job is not safe, you can not predict that you will see another christmas.
but i love my boys, i love my family, they probably need me more than alive.
my regeneration level is thrilling, three days past and i am as good as new. (almost)
after the collision (MVC is tough shit, yeah) flew front around 5 meters straight.
i might have done circus, folks.//

bought myself a lot of expensive clothes for the celebration of this day.
happy like an elephant. getting ready to burn the chicken for the Eve.)