Detente Got an e-mail from Ayden earlier today. Sent a meager response to his usual mass of puzzled vitriol. It took me at least half hour to write a few lines--I deleted more than I sent. It will not be enough but I'm hopeful enough to keep trying. Sometimes it seems like I read about war and I watch about war and my friendships and family are an uneasy truce at best--what else is there in the world but this? I drink too much but it's mostly wine and I dream of crystal and all of my plans are past tense and I try not to think of these things being interrelated. I miss D.J. and wish I had done a better job of staying friends before everything else fell apart and then I remember my glassine tweaker dreams and am deeply afraid that....I wish I had been friends with D.J. before I ever knew what crystal was. I miss my friends and I miss my drugs and I miss greatly the certainty that the two were not the same. I miss being happy I miss being me. Sometimes I even miss being all alone. At least I'd trade the silent company of Shane for drugs and happily--at least some nights. I hope he feels the same way about me. I miss the chalky company of Dominic and what he did for all dynamics. I liked the night we went out drinking and Dominic came back to hang out with Jay and I. That was so much fun. And yet it was also a night Shane went home silent and hurt. The Quadratic Theory of bitterness amongst friends?  ¶ 11:32 PM