you might be wondering where i went. you might not.

i had another blog. but i left out a lot. i tried to kill myself.

i've known for sometime that there was something wrong. very very wrong. i knew it everytime i shot up or did a line off of a sink basin. i knew it everythime i did a kegstand. i knew it everytime i let a married guy fuck me while his wife was out getting groceries. everytime she came home early and i had to hide under the bed or in a closet.

i cried myself to sleep most nights whether or not anyone was in earshot. no one tried to help. i had no friends. i have no friends.

i knew but i did nothing. i sat back and accepted that i'd die before i turned 30 just like my sister.
let's start with honest, shall we? my name isn't Katja. that's my dead sister's name. i stole it because mine is shitty. my real name is Jayna and ever since Kat and i were little i'd wanted to steal her name.

she died at 22. she was 87 pounds when she died of a heroin overdose.
two weeks after her funeral my mother slit her wrists in a church confessional.

i'm not addicted to any drugs. i've done a lot over the years but i'm not addicted to any of them.
i'm not in rehab for a drug problem. i'm in rehad for severe mental breakdown. i took half a bottle of tylenol pm and drank as much of a bottle of crown as i could. i woke up in a hospital room with my neighbor asleep in a recliner across the room.

he had always been nice to me. even after his wife left him because i got drunk and told her that he had fucked me in their garage while she was inside with their newborn.

the librarian is telling me i'm out of time. more tomorrow maybe.