| FO |
[Dec. 3rd, 2004|07:45 pm] |
New journal. Friends only.
Stay Beautiful
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| Hella |
[Dec. 2nd, 2004|03:04 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  busy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | If Winter Ends--Bright Eyes (God) | ] |
I went out on Monday night, and got really fucking drunk.. By the time I realized I was drunk, I got stoned, by the time I realized I was stoned, Jason brought out another bottle of Jack Daniels. Well, I have low self-control with there is Irish Scream around, and Jana has a thing like I do, for Irish Car Bombs… so she made me one or two. Or three. And I ended up with alcohol poisoning. I got out of the hospital last night with only minor liver damage. So, yeah, it’s been a fun few days. I’m going to be out of school for another couple of days, but I’ve been getting my homework and shit. I NEED to graduate. I NEED to get out of this fucking town. It is imperative that every time I am out, that I get my work. I’m a huge fucking square, but then I’d really feel worthless if I don’t graduate. And all of those people, who say that High School is one of the most important times in your life, obviously had a fucking blast in High School. They also must have had money to go to University? Which is why I think it is pointless for me to put in applications for shit in the states, when I know we can’t afford any of it. I don’t need to go to Columbia (University) for my degree in Psychology. But I’m not fucking sticking in OZ. |
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| The Dance of Death |
[Nov. 28th, 2004|05:03 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  cold | ] |
| [ | music |
| | I Am The Law--Anthrax | ] |
I made Vivica cry. Dude, I didn’t mean to. But I did. She “wanted to
talk” with me about what happened. It wasn’t my fault though. She’s
pregnant she’s been crying over everything lately. I feel bad though. I
almost made D cry BUT he wouldn’t dare cry in front of anyone.
No, that’s too risqué. Not that I have any room to talk because, I
haven’t cried seriously, in a few years. When Max died I was too drunk
to even get mad. And I’m pretty much mad all the time. There was a
point to this entry; I have just forgotten what it was though.
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| Weed Need More Air |
[Nov. 27th, 2004|05:25 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  high | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Take My Hand--The Used | ] |
Fuck, I was lying comfortably in bed, listening to my headphones, smoking what was left of my pack of Turkish Jade’s, and who comes in and disturbs my rest? Darious. Yeah, I guess he really wanted to see me? Umm… he already had a good look of me when he came into my room so, you know, he was pissed as hell. But what can you do about it? Yes, I am pissed off as well. But I can’t tell Scott that because then he’ll just do the same thing again. (Oh yeah, I came back a couple of days ago). We kind of started to fight, but then I realized that it wasn’t worth it. I kind of need him right now. But of coarse I can’t tell him that. We spent the rest of the night and morning together, but he had to go to work.
Jason, Magdalena, Trey and I all got stoned out of our fucking minds after I called them though. I really wanted to forget about this all. So why the fuck can’t I smoke some pot? Trey’s really horny when he’s high—so am I—I had a hard time remembering that I have a boyfriend. And he’s fucking hot too. (Both Trey and Darious). But I may have been a little bit too stoned because I was throwing up when I came home. But I still am kind of stoned. I wonder how that happened? |
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| ... |
[Nov. 26th, 2004|06:11 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  blah | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Roulette Dares (The Haunt of)--Mars Volta (It's good)! | ] |
I really had to get out of the house, so Jason and I went to his house: We watched the tellie with his younger sister. I'll watch the tellie when I'm bored but I'll watch BBC or I used to watch Neighbors. Those were the days! Yes, yes, I used to watch soaps... whatever! But I mean, she was watching this one show called Radio Free Roscoe and it was posed as some kind of an Indie radio station. Like these kids were into Indie, I mean. And the last time I checked, the Flaming Lips were not Indie. Then we watched this one show called Degrassi? The gay guy was cute; the blonde haired guy was also cute. But the plot was like watching one of those "how to protect yourself in a violent situation" programs that they show you in Jr. high. It was cool though.
I'm going to see Jason's band play at the Suicide River downtown tomorrow. I haven't heard any really good Industrial bands since I've moved here. And I know Jason's band is really very good so...
Darious text messaged me:
Hey love. I just wanted to talk call me at home. Love you.
Please, just leave me alone for about four weeks--when I am healed! And then I will talk to you! Please? |
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| No Sir, Nihilism Is Not Practical |
[Nov. 26th, 2004|01:11 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | cold | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Dead By Dawn--ShowBread | ] |
I really didn't want to go back in the first place, but I couldn't say no to Zaid. In the end I really shouldn't have gone. My stomach hurts like fucking hell. I can't eat anything becuase it hurts too goddamn much. Which I'm relly pissed off about because I've gained three pounds this week and I don't want to lose them. What can you do about it though? I still haven't talked to Darious. Which means I have not seen him. Which is a good thing, becuase he would go through the fucking roof. This is the sixth time I've been beaten up, but only the first time that I've had anything broken.
Scott is a bloody sick wanker. He's just bloody ill. I've got a lot of bad memories of him. One in which was when I was about eight or so; my mum had just met him them. He was over for whatever reason, and I used to have these really twisted night terrors. I dunno? It was just weird how, when I was telling Matt one of them (we used to share a room), then all of the sudden he barges in and slaps me across the face and tells me to go sleep. He's always had fun hitting me. And now that I've bad the chance to bitch him out after hitting me, he hit me again. But what do I do? I fall to the ground. Emaciated hands won't hurt anybody. It's useless. I don’t even know why I said that to him though? It wasn’t true. So, I put myself in the position to be hit. And it is my fault. But he’s getting off the hook. But it’s true. So I can’t say anything about how horrible a person he is, because it’s my fault I was beat. |
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| Happy Beating |
[Nov. 25th, 2004|12:36 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  blank | ] |
| [ | music |
| | No Control--Bad Religion | ] |
So naturally what happens with Australian men is that they are drunk by 12:30, on a “special” holiday. (Especially on a holiday). All six of my dad’s brother’s, and his dad (I don’t consider these people family) were piss face fucking drunk by the time I woke up which was, 11:30. I took a shower and what ever, came down stairs at about 4 something and I got really drunk. I was still coherent but not to the point where I could really defend myself. Seeing as how I have a big ass fucking attitude, and I have this thing, you see, where I have to speak my mind because if I don’t I’ll feel really horrible. Well, when I am drunk, that comes out with a vengeance. I told Scott that I thought he was a chauvinistic pig, and that if I ever see him again—when I am sober, then I’ll really “fuck some shit up.” He replied back with his world famous, “You’re nothing but a worthless faggot, you aren’t ever going to be anything. Just a peace of shit.” Out came my attitude. I don’t remember what I said, but at that point I had my head in between Scott’s armpit and his brother was carrying my legs out to the shed. (You’d think that because I weight 79 pounds I would just need one person to carry me? But they were drunk). And his brother held me while Scott beat me. Yeah, he gave me a black eye, two broken ribs, a bruised shoulder, a busted lip, some bruises on my knees, and a Charlie Horse. Oh, then his brother kicked me in the spine. I have a giant bruise there now. But, I got up from off the ground, went back inside and bitched both of them out. See, I didn’t fight back. What was I going to do? Swing an arm? Please. Then he punched me in the stomach and I fell to the ground once moor, Matt came down and bithced them out for me again. Heath tried to hit me, but Matt always fights back. Matt took me to the hospital and they fixed me… I don’t have to go to school for a week! Lucky me. How am I going to hide this from Darious? |
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[Nov. 24th, 2004|06:23 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | okay | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Roulette Dares (The Haunt of)--Mars Volta | ] |
So, that tattoo I was talking about earlier? (I think it might have been on my Diaryland diary)? Well, I got it today! Two actually. The Black Flag, flags on my neck. (Over the scar). And the last one on top of my arm that says, "I will let you down I will make you hurt." Yes, I LOVE Nine Inch Nails that much! I'd post pictured but I don't have a camera. (I'm poor, what)? I had to get out of the house, and I’ve been wanted these done for a while. Thank God Erin also is a tattoo artist! I love the pain though! |
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| Sundea Mourning |
[Nov. 24th, 2004|02:45 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  aggravated | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The Skeleton In The Closet--Anthrax | ] |
I felt really shitty last night. So I called Darious and told him I was sorry. I don’t know what I was apologizing for? But I said it anyway. But we just got into another fight. This time I started it though. |
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| Don't Fuck With Me |
[Nov. 22nd, 2004|12:57 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | cranky | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Big Man With A Gun--Nine Inch Nails | ] |
I guess I should say this first: Darious and I got into a huge fucking fight over the fact that I am still losing weight, and he found a cut on my thigh that I made right after we got into the fight… Then he goes off on this huge rant about how it would kill him if I died, and that if he were in any other situation then he would kill himself too. But since he has someone to take care of, he can’t. I, with my usual “self-loath” mantra ask why he cares so goddamn fucking much about me, and why he thinks it’s so important that I be there? And he pushes me, and I push him back, he walks out the door and has a smoke on the balcony. Then I leave (I was at his house), he called my mobile and I hang up, then we don’t speak for four days.
Just an hour ago, I was at his house and we got into it again. I told him I was trying, and that if I have to go to the hospital one more time, then I’m dumping him because he doesn’t need someone who is fucked up like I am. (I’m dead serious). He tells me that I’m full of shit and that I need to get my head out of my ass before it gets too far up there and I can’t even be fucked. I got out on the balcony for a smoke and then Emily comes home and we have a chat about all of this and she tell me that I really am full of shit. And that since I do love D, that I can’t make this decision because I’ll just regret it later. I left after that, he called twice but I haven’t picked up. He’s calling right now, but I am debating weather or not to pick up? OOPS, too late. Maybe not?
(Note: I’m not an actual ditz, I’m frustrated and I can’t be bothered with petty descriptive language and diligent sentence structuring—Let alone a systematic flow of speech). |
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| God Money |
[Nov. 22nd, 2004|03:04 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | angry | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Hurt--Nine Inch Nails | ] |
Today, I have eaten one whole bag of baby carrots, three water bottles, six cups of black coffee, one Vegan muffin, and a grape. I'm fixed. Seriously. I am. I am fixed. I no longer have this sickness over my head. There is not anything keeping me down. I've been stuck. I've been broken. I've hit rock bottom several times and I have managed to sink even farther then that. I have set in stone what my actions have caused. And now, before you a man that no longer has to fight a battle so worthless and meaningless that it is just insulting. I am stabbed in the back by my own words.
I wish it were that simple. I wish I could just say that I am cured. God, I could say I am cured. I have had 900 calories all fucking day today. And that is consitered a starvation diet. I have lived off of sixy calories a day and still managed to put on a front and act like everything is OK. Everything is not OK. I have reached a point where I think I am heading back down hill? I mean how many more times until I get it right? How many more fucking times until I can see a tripple digit figure? No bother to fucking answer my question.
To be quite honest, I'm not afarid to die. I'm really not. I'm more afarid that I'll lose Darious. He's been my whole support system since I first met him. We started drinking and doing drugs together, but for some reason he was able to get him self back up. I was the one that never changed. Now, he had a kid he doesn't have time to deal with me and the shit I am going through. I might as well break up with him? I love him--a lot. I mean a whole lot. But, I can't let him suffer through my shit. So, some times you just have to give up the good. And Darious is pretty much everything I have that is good in my life. I'll miss him. |
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| ... |
[Nov. 20th, 2004|03:11 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  bored | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Trash Flavored Trash--Blood Brothers | ] |
I was bored this morning, so I painted my nails pink. I was still bored so I put on some green eyeliner. I was still bored so I wrote 'fuck you' on my wall in yellow nail polish. I was getting even more bored, so I took a walk through town and ran into Stacy at the bookstore and then we went to eat a muffin at the deli downtown. I called up Chris and we went to Tower... my first time going into Tower. I bought Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge by My Chemical Romance and received some dirty looks from the cashier. I guess he's offended that I was buying music out of my league? If the mohawk, and piercings throw people off, then maybe they aren't as open mined as they'd like to think they are? And it isn't my fault that they don't crry any Damned or Christian Death at Tower. I was still bored after that so I read 1984 for the thousandth time. Then I made coffee and drank it outside with Depesh in my lap. I didn't grow up with dogs, but I had a lot of sticks. After that, I was till bored so I took a shower and then called Darious. He didn't answer so I thought to call Max, but then I don't think they get service in coffins? I don't know that he would pick up anyway? I felt like shit after that, so I went downstairs to have, I guess lunch? Then Matt wanted me to come with him to the hardware store to find a dark shade of red for the baby's bedroom. They're having a girl. We had a "heart to heart" and now I feel like I've opened up a can of worms? I've just realized that I have a scar on my neck. I thought it was a hickie? But it isn't. I want a tattoo over it now. I'll ask Matt. No one needs to know I've tired to hang myself. I'm still bored. |
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| Fuck Me Pretty |
[Nov. 18th, 2004|01:41 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  awake | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Ain't It Fun--Dead Boys | ] |
I hate those gay porn’s where the men are grotesquely muscular, and have really deep voices so when they orgasm or scream it sounds like a bunch of Mounties yodeling. I like really skinny, not so straight guys. What I mean by that is a guy like Darious: At first he said he was bi, then he said he was gay, then he said he was straight, then he went back to being bi, then for six months he was gay, and now he’s straight but not narrow. Please. Just because you looks at lesbian porn, and check out every chick that passes you by does not mean you’re straight. I do the same thing. I mean in his case, it could be confusion, in my case it’s the fact that I just like seeing two women fuck. He told his mum and dad he’s gay, but then again just because you say that it doesn’t mean that much. He’s all of the above I guess? But he’s still in love with a dude. A very flaming and fucked up dude, but a dude nonetheless.
I just left my Human Sexuality class so my mind is racked on sexuality right now. Which is good because I have to write a fifteen-page essay on the difference between finding your sexuality and knowing your sexuality. That’ll be easy. |
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[Nov. 15th, 2004|01:16 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | sore | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Televators--Mats Volta | ] |
Homosexuality is "sodomy", repugnant
“The concept, the word for homosexual behavior is sodomy. That is what is used in the official documents. It is sodomy. It is repugnant. It has been prohibited and proscribed by sane society throughout countless millennia, centuries. People have understood that it is wrong. Now in America, not only is it happening, it is getting civil rights protection in the law, and these people are invading churches.” - 700 Club, 1-18-94 (source: People for the American Way Foundation)
Gays want to destroy Christians
"[Gays seek] to destroy all Christians." - People for the American Way, "Hostile Climate," 1994, p.9.
Jerry Falwell
A) Guess what? I'm sore like a motherfucker right now.
B) I can only speak for myself when I say this but, I don't want to destroy Christianity, I just want to change the mind frame of it. |
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| Fuck, It Was Fucking Fucking Great |
[Nov. 15th, 2004|09:09 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  drunk | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Kill The Poor--Dead Kennedys | ] |
The math test was scheduled at 7:30, so Marc and I were there at 7:00. I stayed up all night studying and finishing up my poetry assignment for my creative writing class. This blows shit but I’ll get over it. Since the test was so early and it was 200 question (I know she’s a Nazi) we got the rest of the day off. I’ll probably finish the math work sheet we have to do, and then read 1984 for my English class. I’ve read almost all the books for my Language Arts class, but at least I can ship the parts I am already familiar with.
I’ve still been thinking about Max. I really can’t go back to New Castle. I mean everything I know is there, Melbourne was hard enough and so is Perth but no one I know has died in any of those places. Jacob died in Sydney so I really can’t go back there. I mean not making little of Max, but I think it’s a little bit different when someone dies by his or her own hands. Rather then someone getting killed? Both deaths bother me equally, but I wasn’t as close to Jacob as I was Max. With Mary it was just bizarre how can you go from being perfectly alive one minuet, and then the next, you’re gone you’re fucking dead? All of my friends think she OD’d and no one said anything. But I don’t think that. I mean if someone can just burst into flames inexpiably, then why can’t someone at the age of 15 just die in their sleep? It has been two years and still nothing has been said. But I mean Mary was the good one out of our group! She never did any drugs, she smoked more then I did, drank only at parties and was still sober enough to drive home unscathed, had sex with the person she loved, and never really swore. She was almost prudent to say, someone like Max or Emily. I remember on several occasions where every other phrase was, “Yeah, cock sucking, cunts never get what they want.” Or, “I fucking loved that one fucking time, when all we did was fucking fuck, and fucking hell, it was fucking fucking awesome. You should have so fucking been there, I fucking swear mate, fuck, it was fucking sweet.” Then my favorite was, “Na, his dick points to the left. He has it pierced; anyway, don’t you know that dicks that are pierced always point in the opposite direction that it used to point in? I mean it isn’t rocket science. It’s the direction of cocks. Lovely cocks, I just love saying that word, ‘cock.’ It just rolls off your tongue. Don’t you think? I could say it all day, cock, cock, cock, cock, cock.” What do you expect when you get seven duruggie kids drunk? I mean we’d just say that over and over and over again. And it never got tiring. |
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| Hannah |
[Nov. 13th, 2004|01:16 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  happy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Kill Hannah--Kill Hannah | ] |
Darious had to do a double shift and Emma had to take Ryan to the doctors so I had to watch Hannah. I stuck her in front of the tellie and did the rough draft of my term paper for my Psychology class. The mind of a two year old is highly entertaining, she thinks that D looks like a walrus, and I look like a rat. Granted, she was watching the Discovery channel. But he doesn’t let her watch tellie, Gloria didn’t but then again we were homeless for most of my childhood. Emma was saying she’s going to have some hard shit to go through when she gets in primary school, then even more in Jr. High. She’s right, though. I mean, just the culture she’s being raised in is taboo enough; now, you have to add on the gay father. Which personally, I don’t see any of this as weird, but then again I’m into Bondage nothing is too weird to me. Well after she finished her explanation on how our faces resemble her favorite animals (which after she said that I about melted), I read her a story—The Odyssey for Children she fell asleep and I finally had a nap of my own.
We’re talking her and Ryan to the park now… |
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[Nov. 12th, 2004|12:14 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | awake | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Death Is In Love With Us--HIM | ] |
Great, the test is being posponed until Tuesday... let the anxiety take over my whole weekend now!
![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) empire_anemia
It's scary how much that was me, when I was 14.
</span> |
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| Fuck |
[Nov. 12th, 2004|08:48 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  anxious | ] |
| [ | music |
| | I Am The Law--Anthrax | ] |
Oh man, I have a giant calculus test in an hour, I’ve been studding since it was assigned but I still know I’m not going to pass. Same with the Science and History test I have to take on Monday. Just give me the money to go to UNC and I’ll be fine. Really, Psychology majors don’t need a fancy ass school to get their education. After all, University is just the platform for the rest of your life. The calculus test counts for forty points for the rest of the year, the other ones don’t. So, if I get a 95 on it, then I’m in pretty good shape… I know I’m square.
I’ve gained two pounds back since last week, and I hope that will triple in the next few weeks? I’m keeping how I would normally eat when I wasn’t at the point that I am at now. Which being a Vegan really doesn’t help because the food that I consume does not have too many calories. I’m not going to give up my principles just because I need to gain weight. (Yes, the Nihilist kid does have shit he lives by).
I don’t know what’s wrong; I haven’t had any sleep in two days. I’ve been thinking a lot about Max. And everything that is associated with him. I can’t smoke with out thinking about him, drink coffee without thinking about him, take a walk around town that lasts three hours without thinking about him, fuck Darious without thinking about him (…), eat without thinking about him. It’s driving me in-fucking-sane. He’s not coming back; I won’t ever see him again. Whatever. I know. But for the love of God, why can’t I really believe that? |
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| Necrophelia |
[Nov. 7th, 2004|02:33 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | bitchy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Vampires Will Never Hurt You--MCR | ] |
I went into the hospital at 67 pounds. I was/am not as severally emaciated as some, but I still am in the same realm. This time, there were 38 men, and 53 women. Only three of us weren’t in this for the weight. My intension was to focus over something else. What I heard from most of the people in the meetings was, “I want control over my life, and I want perfection. By starving I feel I an achieve this.” WHAT THE FUCK? I was in denial the whole time I was at Hope Valley. I said every group, “I do not have an eating disorder. I am not the same as any of your little teenies. I have real goals set for myself, and a real life I want to live. I’m sick of dying, but there isn’t anything wrong with me.” Some of that was a little bit mean, but the whole pro-movement some times really bothers me. I don’t get it; how can someone just look in a mirror a say ‘I’m fat, I’m not going to eat today.” And then once it comes down to it, they freak out when they eat something. But the eat to a binge, and then they whine about how disgusting they feel. I understand that to a certain degree. But then it just gets faded into the fact that I don’t want to live that way. I’m not saying don’t be pro, and stop the lifestyle. Because it’s the same for me, I live in the Deathrock lifestyle I’m a sudo gay liberal, that happens to be bipolar and anorexic. There is the fact that I cut (trying to stop completely), and I used to do really hard fucking drugs. I’ve been living in excess and greed, and selfishness for so fucking long. It’s just getting old. I don’t want to have to go to group therapy and talk about how much I want to change, and the empathy I get from everybody else is so fake it’s hurtful. It isn’t that I don’t like these people in-group, but they don’t want to change. There are ten of us, and only three have graduated because they made a full recovery. I was stable at 77 pounds, for two weeks. Then this morning I went to weight myself, and I’m at 76 pounds. I don’t like looking that way. I most certainly don’t like getting congratulations from some of the people in the EDC (Eating Disorder Clinic). Yesterday Brin came up to me after the session ended for the day and said, “Hey, Jarred, you’re looking thinner. I wish I had your body. Emaciation is so beautiful, you’re so fucking lucky.” I do think emaciated is beautiful, I’m very much into the aesthetics of life. But I didn’t aspire to become so morbid and disgusting. Nor the object of someone’s desire believe me, that was the last thing on my mind. I’m really not trying to say anything bad the people who are into this sort of thing. But, I’m also just trying to put forth that I’m fucking stuck with a disease I seriously don’t want.
Anyway, I slept at D’s place last night, and then from there he took me to the clinic. I went to Starbucks and bought a soy moca. Then to Virgin to buy some CDs. I walked home from the CD store (I only live four blocks from it), took a nap and then finished my philosophy homework. I still have to finish Jane Eyre for my English AP class. Which I read that in sixth grade, and hated it. I’m slugging through this with the up most hate for Miss. Gneri. I think I’m almost done anyway? But I was thinking, for my Human Sexuality class, we have to pick and examine a fetish I’m doing Necrophilia. I could finish Jane Eyre; start doing a more in-depth look at Necrophilia and then work on my art project Art project and History assignment. Which I have to call Tracy and tell her I’ve decided to do Saint Francis… she told me to pick who we were doing, I find saints to be oddly entertaining… I seriously need to get my social life back. |
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| I want to rot from view |
[Nov. 6th, 2004|09:06 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | depressed | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Take The Veil Cerpin Taxt--The Mars Volta | ] |
Erin said she’s watch Hannah so Darious and I could be alone. He wanted to see if I looked any different with all of the weigh I’ve gained? If my skin still felt the same; blotchy, rough, lifeless? To see if he could still fit his hand on my rib cage? He could still do that. I shaved off all of the fur I grew, and made sure that my skin was back to its pale, soft kind of thing. It was sure as hell pale. But it still isn’t good enough. You could tell that he didn’t want to ruin our time together. So he said, “Not that I really wanted you to change to begin with. I’ve grown to like emaciated men anyway. Just the fact that you’ve gained ten whole pounds in a month, that’s amazing, I mean. Your ribs don’t poke my stomach the way they used to. I mean when I lay down, my ribs stick out. If you weighed 10 pounds, I’d still love you.” Fucker. He has to make me feel better about this. I know he’s being sincere. I know he’s becoming immune to this. It’s almost like he’s going to turn insanely irate by the next time he seems me naked, when we aren’t being interrupted because Hannah has something really, really important to tell us. I love her to death. I hope she doesn’t ever have to go through this. |
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