Death Does Not Become Me....

When I finally saw him, he looked back at me with emotionless, uncaring eyes. He sat perched in a charred tree, within eyesight of the Gates. I couldn't get him to come back with me. He didn't return my touch. What life is there left to live if this is the only way?

"Oh my lover on a long long empty road Oh sweet lover I got lost" ~~Vast It's been weeks, months... years, I'm not really sure. The confines of the cage I've been in and the unspeakable things the demon has done has sucked away any hope of actually escaping. The bastard cited anti-magic spells in the sand around the cage, and did everything in his power to make sure I felt every ounce of pain he could muster. Between the physical torture, the smooth words of threat, and the constant stabbing from the structure of the cage, I couldn't disconnect myself from the pain. I prayed for it... the disconnection, but it wouldn't come. An electricity filled the air and the sound of voices stirred me from my trance. Moving was an extreme effort, considering there were barbs on the bottom of the cage, sand that felt like glass in my skin, and only enough room to shift myself uncomfortably. It was his voice... he was there with his back to me, facing my torment

I don't know how much longer I can last. What will kill me first? The intricate torture by my captor or the loneliness?

I think it's been days... I don't know where I am, my hands are bound, and the only item in the room is a tallow candle that barely penetrates the darkness. I can't help but look directly into the flame, which forces me blind everywhere else. I didn't come here willingly, oh no. I finally had a free moment at the cafe without anyone over my shoulder. I was happy, smiling actually for the first time in ages, when the demon Imri sauntered in. He knew I was in the cafe, he looked directly at me as he entered, and within seconds, he casually sat at my table. I couldn't look him in the eye, the same candy purple that Zillah now possessed. Noticing that I wasn't going to acknowledge him, he started purring sweet nothings, inching closer to my ear. Something in his voice held me still, paralyzed to the little cafe chair, and unfortunately, no other patrons were even looking in our direction. I couldn't help but tense as he whispered and giggled how ecstatic he

"Misery no longer loves company. Nowadays it insists on it." -- Russell Baker In a moment of weakness I went back to the Townhouse with Zillah. He's convinced me that the threat on my life is real, and that he won't give up on keeping me in his sights. Which is better... freedom of the streets with imminent doom, or captivity with a bathtub, with a lessened threat of doom? The first night was awkward. He assured me that I'd have my old room, and he would stay outside the door. Not even an hour later, he pawed at the door wanting in. When he finally passed out in the doorway, I snuck back out to get some coffee. It's funny how he thinks the new bars on the windows will keep anything out... or let anything out. Yesterday, the look of loathing wasn't as consuming on his face, and he offered to take me to the Cafe in Paris. I was still very much upset with him, trying to ignore his obvious attention in my direction. But we all know how he is, turning

" You took me for a ride, You took me for all the other fools in your life. Now I don't care about your pain anymore. " ~Vast Doesn't everyone know that I don't give a shit what's happening? All these little kids keep lurking and scampering around me, trying to give me advice. What kind of advice can a 6 year old give, really? I'm not asking, looking, or even putting a face on that says, 'Give me advice, my life is in ruins!' It's just messed up that everyone thinks they know best. Moris Ravenswick tried explaining to me last week that the best way to torture Zillah was to be with him. What a joke. This man shares the same pain as me, knowing that his significant other will always fall into the arms of another... who happens to be my ex-significant other. I'm not going to fuel that fire. Even that little brat Maharet, who has never paid attention to me a day in her spoiled little life, attempted to cheer me up. Then all these other

Is it not better this way? He can have all that he's ever wanted that he claimed I took away. I even helped him erase traces that I even existed at the Townhouse. He thought me careless with his daughter in the house, but I saved her, actually. I tugged her along the streets until I saw a familiar face, shoved her off, and ran blindly until I couldn't walk anymore. Of course he doesn't understand, quick to accuse and call me names. All the efforts I put in these past few years.. wasted.

It's all been so lovely. The Townhouse is transforming before my eyes. Everytime I visit (I'm not ready to call that place home), there are new things and new decorations. Ameera lives there now, too, and I've decided I'm never going into her room again. Ever. Since I'm not too fond of the Townhouse (the only reason I'm there is for privacy), and I'm not really allowed at the warehouse, I've been sneaking into the Rhyme. I can't really get in, only as far as the drive, but it's the closest I can get. I don't know what keeps bringing me back there, but it pulls me in like a magnet. It's a great place to nap and hide from the world, the new owner doesn't even know I exist. Honestly... I haven't been feeling well. Everything has been going so nicely on the outside that if I stopped smiling, it would be obvious. His face is haunting me in my dreams, buried under the murky water of the Thames, eyes dulled out and staring, accusi

I've dreamt about it a few times, knocking him out when he was most vulnerable and not paying attention. It was almost too easy, as Zillah lay there in a daze, and the Professor stunned from the spell he just cast. I hit him over his head with his own case, and it instantly brought him to the floor. I stepped to my lover, still laying on the surgical table, traced his face gently, and overode the Professor's touch with a kiss of my own. Looking back down at the barely breathing body of the Professor, I sighed and cast a spell that would help me drag him out of the Warehouse. The London fog was in my favor, as it hid the awkward sight of me lugging him along, and the scratchy drag of his dead weight on the cobblestones. He went over the edge of the docks easily, welcoming the cold waves with an outreached embrace. I watched for a moment, making sure the current took him til he was a speck, and turned back toward the warehouse. Zillah must never know of this. He would neve

We were lounging at the warehouse the other night... Actually more like Zillah was humoring me after I had drank more than my share of wine. It was the night that this whole fiasco was supposed to end. The past week had been a nightmare, and I was ready for it to be over. After being kicked out, disengaged, held hostage, and then practically begged to stay, I sobered up while we waited for the Professor and his surgeon to arrive. When we heard the familiar knock on the door, he looked with his mismatched eyes glinting in the glow of the twinkle lights and kissed me. It was time. I was repulsed instantly by being in the same room as the Professor. But I directed my sights to Mrs. Westcott, who had curious bruises and cuts about her body, as she tightened manacles around my lover's body to a surgical table. She ignored the world around her as she set forth to slicing and dicing. I couldn't watch for fear of a weak stomach, but stayed in the huddled in the pile of pillows,

I need to find a new place to go. Apparently refusing to help with this dumb surgery thing was the wrong answer. He threw my things out of the Townhouse and demanded I give him back the engagement ring. I didn't realize he was so needy, especially considering he's had everything under control and has so many more people (that aren't me) helping him out of his sticky situation. I tried, I really did try to help him, but he wouldn't have it. And now that I've given up, when I don't have the energy to keep trying, he guilts, and pushes, and prods me to do this. He pets me, whispering how much he needs me, but his face shows a sneer and a clenched jaw. He forced me to London, it being unsaid that he wants to keep an eye on me until the surgery. I don't think he's noticed that I've escaped from the warehouse window...

I received a letter in the post today from the untrustworthy Xylander. I went to the Rhyme, the same place I can no longer call home, and sat in the front drive to read the almost too-elegant script. It was easy to set it on fire, watching the corners burn first until the whole parchment was soon consumed. What do I owe the Professor or Zillah Grey, for that matter? Nothing. It's hilarious to think that they would actually think I could help. I've been trying this whole time, blindly following my heart, only to be betrayed yet again. How come I never see this coming? I should expect it after all of these years. I would never let the Professor cast any sort of magic on me and last I spoke/argued with Zillah, he already had plans with his new-found Mistress to return him back to his glory days. It seems they all have it under control, so now is my chance to disappear into the crowd and let them worry about their own problems. Goodbye Drama.

So I thought long and hard on ideas how to keep my lover in my arms and not in Death's arms. After seeing his pitiful face several days ago when he begged me to stay with him til the end, I've been determined not to let him go. He seemed Hellbent that his death was inevitable, and I didn't realize how difficult it would be to convince him to continue trying, to find a way to live. But I did, I layed out surefire ways to help eliminate the demon possessing his body and he finally acquiesced to try. It was my mistake that I started with what I call 'small fries.' I burned some sage around the Townhouse and layed a line of salt around the perimeter of all the rooms. I knew this wouldn't do much, if anything at all, but at this point, I was willing to try anything. He grimaced at me, thinking my idea ridiculous. Of course it was ridiculous, salt isn't going to expel a demon in the body, but it will feign off more danger. It seemed like he really delayed o

We were supposed to have long baths, piggyback rides, nights drinking coffee, and being the cutest couple at any party. Now he's screwed it all up, finally talking to the Professor who claims he only has a couple weeks before the demon inside him consumes him completely. See what revenge got anybody? Nothing. I'm going to lose my Zillahface to death... I'm going to lose myself. It would have been better not knowing.

So I've been avoiding the new townhome in London. Actually, I've been avoiding London all together. I'm not sure, but my fight of flight reflex has kicked in, and I'm doing everything I can to suppress it. Every moment in his company I have to choose my words for fear of the smallest thing setting him off. Last time I was in the new place, we were getting into the business of snogging and he started an argument. I just want kisses and caresses, not goosebumps and adrenaline rushes. So I leave, telling him that when he's ready to get back to our lovemaking, he can find me. But what does he do? He stalks me, finds me, then continues his weak arguments. I truly don't understand why he doesn't understand. He's always got this look of hope on his face when he asks me if the Professor is around, but then turns when I tell him I haven't seen him. Why is he relying on that faker who has only hurt us more in the long run? Not only has this "Pro

We sat down last night and wrote down the pros to keeping this demon and the cons of keeping it. I'm afraid there's still more room on the paper... I see the obvious choice... does he?

Let me clarify to you, dear journalthing, that I do not want children. I will forever be a kid inside this body. I can only relate to kids if I'm causing trouble with them. In no way could I ever parent anything . The one time I let slip that most gypsy women my age have about a dozen kids by now, Zillah thinks I want kids. Nooooo waaaaaaaay. I want to keep my cute little hips and my perky chest. Once you have kids, everything sags. I can name some people that has happened to, but I don't want to get firestormed. Live and breathe through the eyes of a child... why live vicariously through your kid if you can still live yourself? I've only enough time for myself and for Zillahface. And I heard you stop having fun bathtimes after you have kids. I am not putting myself in that situation. No. Way. So yeah, Zillahface, if you want to put in another bedroom at the new place for Ameera, go ahead. But you should know by now that I'm not going to parent her... I'm pr

Saw that gap again today. While you were begging me to stay. Take care not to make me enter. If I do we both may disappear. Saw that gap again today. While you were begging me to stay Managed to push myself away And you as well, my dear And you, as well Pushed you away my dear I will choke until I swallow Choke this infant here before me What are you but my reflection? Who am I to judge or strike you down? But you're pushing me And Im shoving you And your pushing me And Im shoving you Rest your trigger on my finger, Bang my head upon the fault line You better take care not to make me enter If I do we both may disappear But you're pushing me And Im shoving you And your pushing me And Im shoving you You still love me We're pushing and were shoving And you're pushing and I'm shoving You still love me And were pushing and were shovin

When members of a gypsy caravan are deathly ill, it is common practice to put them in their own caravan bus to live out the rest of their days. It's not that they're shunned or banished from the rest of the caravan, it's more like no one wants that curse to spread. Sure, we all visit this person, giving food and the gift of talk, but once it gets to that point, he or she is mostly out of sight, out of mind. We've always cut our ties easily, knowing that is how life works and that we must always go forward. I suppose this is how I differ from my people. I would frequently visit my Uncle Tio, who was one of the unfortunates blessed with his own bus. These visits are when I'd hear those lovely stories I write here or even the life lessons he felt I needed to know at my young age. He would tell me, and it makes sense now, that "Your own person is the most important thing," that I "shouldn't rely on others when you can do it yourself." This

In hindsight, what I did was absolutely nuts. Some wave must have rolled over me, making me act the way I did, completely out of my norm. Usually when I want something, subtle hints and manipulations do the trick, but in this case, straight out demands (and commands) seemed to work. Zillah was consumed completely by this stupid demon that thought it fun to chase me around Paris and try to kill me. Yeah, imagine that, the love of your life --- possessed by a demon, in the same body that you know so well -- hunting and stalking you, ready to rip your guts out and feed them to the birds, or eat them himself. Who knows? I was scared shitless, hiding in other people's chateaus, in crowded streets, yet the bastard kept finding me. But like all horror movies when the main character is running from the badguy (upstairs nonetheless *eyeroll*) he finally confronted me back at the Rhyme and lunged at me like a madman. His strength was noticeably more enhanced as he wrapped his cold hands arou

The words, "I promise" never actually left my lips when Zillah insisted I stay in Paris. When he saw me in the warehouse, a look of shock filled his face. He lay there on the zabuton, his body contorted unnaturally, ooze seeping from untold wounds, and the sunglasses he had donned for so long smashed on the floor in bits. I've never seen him look so shitty, it totally unlike him to be seen in this state. After insisting that I leave, he acquiesced when he realized I wasn't going anywhere. I didn't ask any questions, because I knew once I started, I was going to scream at him, telling him this was the worst possible thing he could have done to us. What has he done? I coerced him into letting me clean his wounds, cleaning out the bits of flesh that still nested in his cracked skull, and pulling his chest scar stitches back together, which had opened up, leaving his breastbone exposed to the elements. He face contorted constantly, from awe, to maliciousness,

I kind of knew something was about to happen when I found obituary clippings hidden under the comfortable pillows at the warehouse. The names on the generic typed-font eulogies meant nothing to me, and I was uncertain if they held anything for Zillah either. It was when I saw the familiar spikey dreadlocks and a slack-jawed face of the Professor buried in the crowded streets of London, I knew that the time was now. The crowd hid me well as I slid through, avoiding elbows and glances, and I followed them to the edge of town. What were those large knapsacks on their shoulders for? It wasn't like Zillah to carry alot of weight around, he probably thought it marred his lean frame. When they walked through the iron-wrought gates of the local cemetery, it became harder to disappear in the crowd without being seen. I let their gentle shoves carry me along the avenue. A confident smirk filled my face because I knew where my targets were heading. Waiting a few minutes, I turned back ar

The Prince and the Wizard There was a king, and he had only one son, who happened to be knightly and of the heroic sense. To prove himself, he left on an adventure across his father's land upon his royal horse. He came to a forest, where he found a large tree to rest under and take a nap. Vivid dreams came to him, and wild dragon horses breathed fire into his ears, whispering that if he ventured further, he will find a man with no kidneys on his path. Being the adventurous type, the prince awoke, and scoured the path until he found a man squirming and wailing about. "Mercy! What are you screaming for, man?" "A wizard has taken my kidneys and left me here on the road to wither and die." the flailing lad stated. The prince proudly said, "Rest here, and I will return," and he traveled for three days and three nights before he rested. At the hill where he rested, he saw three horses, which when they saw him, ran over to him to eat him. Not blinking a

Friday night was really fun. Zillahface and I were running around making out in as many places as we could before we'd get ushered out when we ran into Naeva Trinstadt. She had this weird mix of nervousness and excitement on her face, and I don't blame her one bit, because she was to be married the very next day! So to distract her, and with alot of convincing Zillah, we went to a couple of taverns and carried around huge jugs full of wine. We staggered in the street with our jugs and Zillahface followed us moping, obviously not interested in being with two drunken and giggling girls. We found ourselves in Agrabah, where Yusuf scrubbed disgusting balls of dirt off our skin (thank goodness, too, because me and Z got into a mud fight earlier), and then Sabiha stretched, pulled, and battered our muscles until we felt like goo. I could tell Naeva really liked it, she didn't want to get off the massage table. After chasing goats and camels, and harassing the harem girls, we

I've come to the realization that I know nothing of import about weddings nowadays. The extent of my wedding experience is one I attended in my former life, and then out by the dumpsters after a Reception in Sea-at-tel. People sure do eat alot of food when they get married, is this some sort of ritual? How do you plan such a thing? Technically it's a large party where everyone gets toasted, right? I mean, I think I could organize something like that. With this promise, our families are supposed to join and become an extended family. This is quite funny, because I have no family here. The last person I saw was my sister, Kizzie, and who knows what man she ran off with. I guess that I'm fortunate in that I'm gaining two new members, Samael and Ameera, both that like me alright from what I can tell. In a traditional gypsy engagement, our fathers are supposed to meet, and a dowry set but that tradition is thrown out the warehouse window at this point. Perhaps Zilla

I've never seen Zillah like this. Sure, he's always been protective of me, but now he's attentive... and cares about my feelings. Like: ~He understood why I approached the demon Imri. He was very scolding, but was absolutely cute about it. ~He tended to my wounds, making sure they didn't stay infected. The look on his face when he inspected them showed me that he felt the pain of the gashes himself. ~He held me while I slept and didn't leave once. ~He makes sure I'm taking plenty of baths and supervises closely to make sure all mud is removed from my person. ~He doesn't complain when I trash the warehouse. ~He brought me to Hell just so I could see it. Unfortunately, the badguys there didn't like me much and kicked me out. ~He retired from being a Hellhound. ~He gives me kisses and love constantly. ~He's working on his bedtime story telling skills. ~He protects my honor any chance he gets, probably moreso than I realize. ~He got me a beautiful, o

I've nothing in this world to show for myself but my actions, and I promised myself once I saw Zillah's missing green eye that I would retrieve it for him. In my thoughts, it was the perfect wedding gift; to be able to look at him freely, not through tinted glass on the day we are wed. I found Mister Imri at the fancy restaurant in Paris, the one I don't go to because the service kind of stinks. He purred that he has 'connections' and got us a table in the sea of overly-dressed masticating French people. He was quick to bring up Zillah and how fortunate I was to be leaving so soon. If I'm not mistaken, I think he was encouraging me to go, yet trying to hold my interest with cool, casual words and slight touches. It took all I had to disconnect myself from his constant flattery and cooing with a convincing smile on my face. I thought that if he began to trust me, then I'd have more leeway in acquiring the precious eye, so I sipped on some greenish absyn

I was surprised with myself when I agreed to Zillah's marriage proposal. The answer didn't come out of me easily, as I was trying to manage the shock and confusion of actually seeing Zillahface on one knee before me. I remember when I first met Zillah Grey. He had some whore draped across his arm and he sneered at me when he first made contact with his green eyes. At first, he was very indignant, playing mean word tricks, indicative that he was verbally pulling my pigtails and didn't want to let me know what was really going on in his head. But he was so cute with his spikey hair and badguy attitude. I remember being slightly afraid of him at first. He was a known killer, ruthless and precise, and one day he let it slip that he is a cannibal. This was a frightening concept, as how does one act around someone who eats people? He never really assured me that he wasn't going to eat me, but I ended up sticking around, not asking about his habits or questioning his id

You can never catch old man Rowane off guard. He seemed to know I was in London and walked in with this all-knowing aire about him. With warm greetings, we instantly turned to the subject that has probably consumed most of our time. The magic that will bring me back home. He's decided that Hell is the best place to perform the ward that will bring me back to Sea-at-tel. Personally, I don't think this has any underlying meaning, being it Hell and all, but it is kinda spooky. My friends back home will *not* believe I went to Hell and back. I can imagine the laughs now. So he brought me there, to show me the last place I will see. The ward has been traced, and the magic will be spun tomorrow. Forget the fact that I know Rowane is going to botch the job because he's been coerced by those that don't wish me to leave...

While sitting in the office at the warehouse, I decided to write down the pros and cons. This list is a list-in-action, and will be added to as I come to think of it. Pros (for going to Sea-at-tel) -Home. -familiar territory. -Derelicts and all others that I know are now there. -the party is going to be FANTASTIC when I come back. -Jorge. -the Plaid Pantry dumpster. -stronger cigarettes. -not as nice bathroom facilities. -less drama. -I'll never forgive myself. Cons (against going to Sea-at-tel) -I miss out on seeing Ameera grow up (she doesn't know yet) -no more magic. :( -I'll always be known by whom I associate with. -I wouldn't be able to avoid the people I don't like/don't like me. -I'll never forgive myself. -Zillah.

This was the most unlikely weekend ever. I'm still trying to process all that has happened, and I don't think I quite understand all of it. Early yesterday Ameera found me at the cafe, her face a red mess full of tears. She was trying to talk to me, but before I knew it, he was in the cafe. I didn't expect to see those startling green eyes so soon. Isn't there supposed to be a grace period before you're supposed to see each other? He looked as uncomfortable as I felt, but stayed to coax his daughter out of the cafe. Apparently, the pinky promise has been broken and the can of beans spilled. I was given a snarl and a warning to never mention Sea-at-tel again to Ameera, and with that the child started screaming at us. He tried to console her, being the most fatherly that I'd ever seen him. It was a strange, but a comforting sight. I think it sunk in that Daddy and the princess were no longer together, and she wanted us all to be a happy family and go t

Plan A: Speak with Samael. Samael has transfered back and forth between this time and Sea-at-tel, so it's only natural I ask him how it's done. When I saw him, he didn't really seem that surprised to see me, even though it had been months. I don't believe he knew what had happened between me and his father, but I wasn't comfortable talking about that, so I skirted the subject and asked him how to get to Sea-at-tel. He wanted to know why I wanted to go back, and it was easy to lie and tell him that I had some shopping to do, that my provider of really good drugs needed to hear from me, else I'd lose my discount. That seemed to hold him over, so he scrawled this mess of words on a piece of paper and handed it over. He's probably playing some sort of game, but if I want to use his method, I have to decipher this chickenscratch and do it quickly. I then said my goodbyes, which shocked him by the look on his face; I don't think he was expecting a fin

I've felt every minute of the last few days. Normally time would fly by (was I really having fun?) but it's in slow motion now. I can't remember the last time I ate anything. Can the human body survive off cigarettes and coffee? I've this horrid taste in my mouth from these cigarettes. Cigarettes back in Sea-at-tel were much stronger, but also had more chemicals in them; maybe that's what made them more addicting. I've had a few encounters with a gentleman named Imri. He keeps finding me at my usual spot at the cafe in Paris and striking up conversations about things I'm not ready to talk about. He's managed to seduce me into saying more than I should, especially since I've vowed not to trust anyone. In passing, he mentioned my friend Jorge from Sea-at-tel, and after much confusion, he admitted he played the Cards in reference to me and my situation. He has the Sight as well, and foretold some information that I can't quite take to heart.

There's no angels here; just a sun to light the way, to places where my friends turn to strangers. On a long, long empty road: I got lost ~~~~~~ I've been betrayed by all that I know here. Those that once claimed to be my friend backstabbed me and tried to butter up their words with inane lies. You can't lie to someone who's an expert in lies. I know, I see right through weak, unprotected words. This place is like a badly-cast soap opera set in medieval times. If I wanted to live in a soap opera, I would have moved to California. All was perfectly well until the lies started flying off tongues. Just thinking about his lies in reference to her lies and how they collaborated to lie makes me seethe! What a joke this place is. I trust no one. I'm going back home. Somehow.

Dear Jorge, I know you're never receive this letter considering I'm hundreds of years ahead of you in the past. Perhaps if I leave it in the general area of our old stomping grounds you will find it. It feels like an eternity since I've been home. You will never believe what has happened since I saw you last. I'm back in that place I told you I came from! I know you didn't believe me when I told you about it, but I'm really here. There's magic, and a scary cyclops, Jesus freaks, and these crazy indian people who eat babies...I don't know how I got here. After I got that piercing headache by the Plaid Pantry, I woke up in this glass box thing, and you'll never guess who was there. My ex! I remembered what you said about guys like that, that I shouldn't associate with them and I could do better, so I fought him off best I could. Turns out, he didn't like that much and kept me captive in his basement for weeks. I guess he felt sorry for me

"Lime?," he quivered. His face filled with recognition and surprise. I can't believe I'm here , I thought. The Rhyme. I passed out cold, still in the glass coffin. Zillah shook me awake, with a touch I'd nearly forgotten. It's him!! I screamed, feeling hurt, scared, and above all angry at the realization that this heartless soul brought me back from where I escaped. He held tight, avoiding my flailing arms. Pinpricks of glass cut my skin, but the pain of being in this place was worse. I knew what type of things happened in this room. I shouldn't be here. I manage myself out of his grasp and onto the floor, among even more glass. At this point, I didn't care. I stared into his eyes, snarling. "Lime, how did you --?" he says, at a loss for words. He looked exactly the same as the day I killed myself. Dressed in a manner the highschool kids back in Sea-at-tel tended to dress. "I don't know. Send me back. Now ,"

Sea-at-tel. It's been my home for so long that I'd nearly forgotten my old home. And the home before that, to be honest. Life became eventful and joyous, as best can be for a girl living in a cardboard city full of vagrants. My circle of friends were those 'crazy people' on the bus, the bumps on the sidewalk you remember long after your wallet was stolen, the dancing and parties behind convenience stores where highschoolers would flock. It was one of those days me and Jorge were leaning against a graffiti-covered dumpster behind the Plaid Pantry smoking cigarettes. Jorge was the type of guy that was always around, as if he had nothing better to do. He once got me an ID card that said my name is Carmelita Gonzalez so I can legally buy booze and cigarettes. That's what friends are for, right? It was in that moment when Jorge was about to tell me some juicy gossip about Patrick that I got a piercing headache. I pulled my dreadlocks out of my face, trying to get some a