I'm off to the big house. Goodbye my dear readers. Please don't forget about me. I'm truely sorry for the crimes I allegedly commited.

May Gods will be done unto me.


All my love to everyone.

AGY
xoxoxoxo

Chantix and acid.

Big day tomorrow...jail here I come. Don't confuse that sentence for enthusiasim, its more pure terror. While in jail it would be nice to keep in contact with my reader's (if you don't mind me calling you that) so here is the address to the first jail I'll be at.

3030 Curry Lane
Green Bay WI
54303
Attention: Prisoner Anna G. Young

I promise to write back. I'm sure there will be some entertaining stories. I have tons of funny stories from the Mental Hospital. Like the guy the doctors thought was on a bad Acid trip, but ended up having a bad reaction to Chantix (the stop smoking drug).

One morning I woke up at 5am, and the Chantix guy was wearing only his sheet, and had wraped his entire head in toliet paper, and poked out little eye holes so he could see. His sheet was wraped a little too losely, and he penis was falling out. Mind you he was in his later 50's. This guys family told the doctor that he had never acted like this until he started taking Chantix to stop smoking. Every few minutes this guy would go up to the nurses station and ask for some Chantix.
When Chantix guy would start talking to you, he would not go away, and he was making no sense. He just kept reapeating numbers plus he was foaming at the mouth. At lunch one day I asked him if he would go away, and not spit on my lunch. He flipped out, and instead of calling me a bitch, he went, you stupid B-I-C. I peed my pants twice because of this guy. He would also spend 5 or more hours a day on the phone talking to no-one, we could all here that tone that goes off when the phone is off the hook, but he kept right on talking incohorently. Mr. Chantix was always getting ass darts to calm him down.

Now on to this person who I owe 80 sheckles. Is it a boy or a girl. Is one of my twin cousins, or an aunt? Is it an ex-boyfriend? I know you told me to shut up, and stop asking questions, but I won't know who sent me the money on the commisary, jail doesn't tell you shit like that. Okay now I'm going to leave it alone.

As for my paintings...yes I paint, but they are shitty paintings. They look like a four year old painted them. I'll take some photos, and put them up, but please don't be mean.

So, I'm off. Tonight is my lastnight of freedom. Please do write.

Whomever it is who is forgiving my debt, thank you.

There I go again

My obession with Kurt Cobain is out of control again. I painted this painting, and I called it Black Hole sun, then I printed out this photo of Kurt Cobain, and pasted to the painting. Fuck Black Hole sun was a song by some band that was not fucking Nirvana. My brain is fucked. Fucked!

Every fucking idol I have has offed themselves. Do you see a problem in that? I sure as hell do.

Not to mention I'm fucking horny as hell. I feel too ugly to have sex though.

I'm not sure why my blogs are so short lately. Not much to say.

feeling better

I'm back on thee Methadone, and well I no longer want to put a shot gun in my mouth. The shitty thing is, I must go back to jail on MOnday morning. Probably the worst and the best thing for me. Worst because I'm goiong to lose all my freedom, best because I'll get my life back when this is all over.

I'm very tired, I just wanted to say I'm not suicidal any longer.

My PO fucked up, and jail here I come...again!

Got a call from my lawyer that I have to turn myself in to my PO. The PO forgot to put a PO hold on me, and that is why I got bailed out of jail. So I've been out almost three days, and I have to go back asap. I feel like such a scared ass little baby.

On a brighter note I got to go to the Methadone clinic, and I got my dose of Methadone today. I feel 100% better than I did lastnight, or this morning. I'm not as suicidal right now, but I do have guns or access to guns. My poor parents. I just hate myself and want to die.

Please keep me in your thoughts while I sit in a jail cell. I could be picked up at any moment.

Average indvidual...

make a follower... lose one. wtf. I'm so tired I can't sleep. I took too much k-pin. Not a suicide attempt. I need opiates for that. I can't even press the shift bar to capitolize my words. I need opiates, and my parents refuse to take me to the clinic.

throw me in the fire and I wont throw a fit.

I found shot gun shells today. I've got a plan. Then again I'm going to give it a day, and hopefully tomorrow I can go back on Methadone for the next 7 days I'm out of jail. IF I can just get that methadone this black fog over me will pass, without it I'm blowing my brains out on a certin day soon.

I feel like Frances Farmer. Except not as pretty or famous. Never will be. I love the comfort in being high. Hey I wouldn't be such a hero if I wasn't such a zero.

Oh yes, I got a offer for a book deal for my book, called "I hate myself and want to die", ripped off from you know who. Everything I do is ripped off from him. I'm lame, stupid, ugly, and everything negative you can say to me, I already know.

I want to kill myself in the fall, my favorite season, or spring.
I don't just think I'm dumb, I know I am. I know I am. I know I am.