Making My Way

In this world, I know there is one thing that will always
remain true.  There are no such things as coincidences.

Or maybe that's just me being paranoid. 

I'm not sure which it is because of the fine line between my
sanity and insanity.  It has become so hard, so hard to make sense of it
all. 

I feel as though everyone is the enemy, even my loved ones. 
Who can I trust when I can't even trust myself? 

But I continue to run from myself and everyone else, all the
while playing this game of lying and manipulating to survive.  Fuck them all, I
say, because if they got the chance, they'd fuck me over in a heartbeat. 

Everyone's a fucking hypocrite in one way or another. 
Everyone's trying to survive; even myself.

Or so I tell myself to calm the paranoid thoughts that
penetrate and take over my brain whenever I'm not alone; hell, I even tell
myself that when I am alone.

And as these thoughts run through my head, I take a not very
calming, slow pull off my cigarette.  I had to give a stranger a blow job just
to get this pack.  Though it disgusts me, I need them.  Just like I had to fuck
the night manager of that crack motel, just so that I'd have somewhere to stay
for the niglastlast night.  I'm just trying to survive.

I have no identity; I've forgotten my name.  I carry no
identification, nor do I have any money.  In some small towns I have picked up
odd jobs here and there, but I never stay in one place too long, in hopes of
covering my tracks.  I know they're following me, and I don't know how much
longer I can run. 

I'm so tired.

And as I stomp out the cigarette butt under my boot, I stare
at the once-white wall of my motel room.  My mind is racing of thoughts like, Have
they caught wind of me here?  How close are they?  I need to get out.

So I have decided to leave this poverty stricken town in the
middle of butt-fuck nowhere.  I have to leave because I have a gut
feeling that they are close"¦too close.

Maybe I'll go to an over populated city, to change it up a
bit.  I can't leave the country because I don't own a passport, but I'm still
hoping to find one with a picture that looks similar to me.  I can't apply for
one because they have connections everywhere, and would know if I filed
any sort of documents like that. 

I have to be careful.

I down the rest of the bottle of piss-warm beer, from last
night, that was sitting on the night stand next to that disgusting bed (I swear
to God that those sheets haven't beasheashed in a long time), before I
stand up and grab my jacket. 

I can probably find a willing driver to give me a lift to
the closest city to here, and if I'm lucky I'll be able to find some shelter
there.  But I'm not betting my luck on it.

It's just another day, for me.