"It's a stupid name, but I don't know what else to call this. A journal? Let's just go with that for now. This is just my story. The whole shebang, from the beginning ." "I don't remember my parents' names, assuming I ever knew them to begin with. I can still make our their silhouettes; thin, shivering, hungry, with an insatiable hunger for their next dose. Around the age of six, they sold me off to the Dreamland Amusements carnival. Dreamland was a boiling pot of people on the run, junkies and career criminals, all ran by a man named Irish. Irish was a cruel man. When I began to learn of the real work Dreamland was doing less than a year later; smuggling, trafficking, drugs, ect; I was caught snooping by Irish and subsequently had my eyes gouged out with a hot iron . Luckily for me, among the carnies was an old Creole woman who took care of me and fashioned my new eyes. I still keep the rustic design, as off putting as it may be to others. I wear goggles now to keep appearances, but I had no such blessing back then. I suppose that's why I'm so snippy when people try to touch them or insist on seeing my eyes." "Anywhay, this was part one I guess. I'll update later. Cya" /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// "Alright, Part 2." "I miss the Creole woman. Madam Lee was her name, as I remember. She was always kind and tried her best to keep me out of trouble. To be fair, her version of not getting into trouble was not getting caught. She taught me to pick locks, dislocate my thumb to get out of cuffs, and had me on a pretty strict workout routine. But don't worry, I still learned carny shit like juggling and riding unicycles. Unfortunately she passed when I was 13. They said it was her health, but to this day I'm sure Irish had something to do with it. I miss her gumbo. I miss eating with her." "It was around this time I met Patrick, or Crust, as people called him. He was a punk god, and my first love. I still remember his stupid dirty face long, long green hair , and the smell of that denim vest. I know I'm probably too old for it, but I'll never change my hair. Punk will never die, and neither will Patrick." "Alright, I'll do more later."