I'd sell you a thousand storys if I thought you care. If the storys weren't the ones you've already heard. I'd sell you the sory about the whore with her lies and her deciet, or the one with the gay, drinking himself to an early death, I'd tell you of the woman held at gun point along with her friends and go in to detail about the mother who didn't care, maybe even the drunk with his temper, but I guess you've hard it all a million times already.
I guess thats the problem with the internet, it gives you millions of life storys in nothing more than a few seconds. Not that I'm complaining about the internet, it's a brilliant invention but it does make things a little 'overly accessable' (for lack of a better term) It just seems that every story has already been made available for the whole world to see, so whats the point in telling your story, how ever entertaining it may be when it gets lost in a very large sea? (like this, right here, I still insist on writing about my crazy little existance on one rather large web site [a community consisting only of writers, of all things] because I hope that somewhere out there, someone will see my story, [which isn't exactly my story, it's my analysis of people around me and how their actions affect my life] and see me for who I really am in a world full of alcoholics, abusers and lying controlling ex's
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