she passed away

Ive had to patch her over 1,000 times but she still holds air!!!

I'm so sorry....

I lost my brother there..

Thank you.....although I know it was a long time ago, when I think of Carl, it doesn't seem so long ago.

How old was your brother? Carl was 19..I was 16.

My first love became a drug dealer...

fought with anyone who looked my way

never got caught- made a fortune

married several times and divorced

is still very well off-


he hurt me badly...I was 17 years old

(he was 16!)

My brother was 21..I was 15...1969..
Still hurts to this day...

He will always be "MY" hero..

He couldn't seem to figure out how to fit me into the rest of his life. So he ended up marrying someone else.

My brother survived the war but he couldn't survive the memories. Drank himself to death.

My second husband was like that.
But, suicide got him 1st...

There is a method to the madness...
Therefore, I work...

As far as I know, they still haven't found the body.

My first love is the same as he always was, although single, mildly creepy and desperate enough now to hit on my mom via text messages which is rather disturbing.

We were on and off most of my teenage years, had some great times, than I grew up.
He actually had the nerve to ask me to kiss him when I was married to my ex husband, lol.

The way I remember him when we were in love, though, was an assertive, sexy, long-haired native american mutt country grease-monkey biker bad boy. He shaved with a knife, the type that could survive a month in the woods with a knife and a toothpick. Damn, was he sexy. His hair was mid-back, muscular, wore these tight blue jeans all the time...ANYWAYS. Yea, yea, most girls go for the pretty boys, but I can DEFINITELY appreciate a rugged man. lol.

He taught me how to walk barefoot in the country, ride horses and be passionate about animals because they're often better than human beings, go nuts on a motorcycle, get greasy working on cars, shoot a gun and he saved me from myself. He was always getting into trouble. I was a rebellious teenager, he was friends with a friend of mine who let me stay at her house when I ran away, we hit it off, and spent the next few years partying and going to hell and back.
He taught me a lot, and I'll always remember him for that.

Unfortunately. After the loves I'd had and lost over the years, it is hard to find one I truly enjoy. So many plastic faces. So little persistence. So much indifference. I feel so old, and I am only 22. Of course, I've probably lived enough for 3 people in my short time. Maybe someone can ignite that spark again, although, hope for truth is dimming with each day.