We all have vices. We all have something that we cling to, that we hold onto for dear life, because it's our life-preserver. It's what keeps us from going mad, and for some, it's the madness that keeps us from the brink itself. I've reached that brink. For whatever the reasons, that edge isn't slippery, or unexplored, it's always been there, I'm just looking at it with a new focus. But my own vice is unlike that of anyone else I know. In fact it's quite the opposite. I only wish mine were like others, spend money on drinks, a few hours of discomfort, then back to life as usual. Easy as pie.

But I'm too smart for that, and more often than not, broke. The occasional high is what is offered more and more lately, it's accepted, but it's not my vice, too bad.
Sweet you rock, and sweet you roll.
It's a different person that I look at in photographs. That little girl is confident, poised, elegant, and something else that the girl in the next photograph has lost.

Such a shame, and a waste.

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then / after