I stole this pen and this notebook. I decided if I’m going to be able to manage to continue, I’m going to have to write some stuff out, to get it out of my head, before I’m completely insane. I need to lay low right now. I’m low on cash, haven’t been on meds for a while, and been starting to talk to myself again. I guess a person doesn’t have time to converse with others when they’re trying to outrun the authorities. I’ve spent my entire life trying to please others, avoid the fights, and run for my life. Now I was just keeping up with that appearance. It would please people if I wasn’t convicted, avoided the law, and ran for Mexico. A few months ago I got involved with a really bad female, not in the fun way, but the insane. Her name’s Sarah, the word I use for insane. We met years before, randomly, as destined pairs often do. If I only knew what I was getting myself into by being introduced to that crazy bitch, I could’ve avoided it all. After we met, we occasional hung out together, in groups. Our slow, non personal friendship made the process of getting to know her and the amount of actual things I knew about her very rare and scarce. I developed an idea about her. I’m a firm believer in ideas, it’s quite the conundrum. My idea of her was formed by her body. She always looked great. I go from toe to head, just to be different. She had the cutest little painted toes, which were always so meticulously done. She had a great eye and detail for artistic endeavors. On her ankle, the emblem of the Sagittarian was designed. She and I had the same sign. We must have similar tastes. Her longs were long and slender. It made me think of her as a graceful beauty. Her **** was perfect and cute. She became perfect and cute in my mind. She always had her mid rift showing, making her so innocent and untainted by addictions and degradation. When a woman has **** that are just the perfect b-cup size and are just the right amount of perky, everything else seems less important. I grew to adore her. The face, I could learn to live with. I’ve learn to live with a lot of not so pretty things at face value, but I’ll be damned if she didn’t have the sexiest brunette hair I had ever seen. She became the sexiest woman I had ever met. Apparently the feeling was steadily growing mutual towards me. One night, it accumulated into one night climaxation. Climaxation is not really a word. I thought it be funnier if it rhymed. People reading this journal, in the future, might not read it all if I don’t make them laugh once in a while. Now I will bring attention back to focus. I was having relations of the best kind with the woman I thought was the sexiest woman on the planet, she wanted me, and was completely naked. This was the climax of the good times, which meant the bad time were on the horizon and could be spotted almost immediately. Like in most instances, it started simple with more time spent with each other, enjoying each other physically, and really starting to get to know the other person.  It was when I found she had severe mental problems, for which she took medication for. That didn’t bother me at first, but then it turned out she tried to stop taking medications once, pushed her elderly father down the stairs, and then jumped off the roof of her two story home. She told me she went to the hospital with both her femurs broken. The only way to set the bones in back was to place them two inches from the ends the parts that broke, which is why her legs are so long and slender. Not only did I start to see her true side, but it was like looking at a beautiful sculpture and then seeing the little cracks up close. Not long after that, she and I got pretty close. In a time of fluctuating feelings for her, I decide to start a genuine relationship with her. Not being clear headed is a bad time to make big decisions. We moved in together. Two weeks after, I got diagnosed with this new mental disorder. I’ve always felt I was different somehow. I always hoped it meant I was going to be a multi millionaire rockstar, but apparently I was just the first person ever to go crazy in a new way. I was told my brain would pretty much be useless for surviving in reality in the next twenty year and the more stress placed on me, the quicker it would deteriorate. Obviously, no medication I can take for it, but they pretty much told me if I don’t want to die quicker then I should stop thinking hard. I was fine with it. I had a beautiful woman that absolutely loved me just as much as I loved her. All I cared for was those remaining years. Sarah stood by my side. She was crazy, but she did love me.That was probably her undoing. She decided to go off meds and just accept who she was, because I had to do it. The difference was I wasn’t that bad yet. That’s when the fights started, well more like assaults. I can’t hit a woman. I’m not old fashioned. I just can’t hit a woman. The beatings were bad, but it wasn’t why I was running from the law. It’s hard to believe, because it’s just so out there, but eventually she wanted a kid. I wasn’t supportive of that idea, not because she beat me. I loved her. I have twenty years at best, my life has a shelf life attached to it, and both her and I are mentally unbalanced people. I just couldn’t father a child, knowing they would lose me before they were twenty and they would have a high risk of developing mental disorders, potentially with no cure they can take. I told her that and her response was to kidnap a child. When I saw the kid, I told her she was crazy, so she went crazy and ran. I didn’t know what to do. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I’d be connected to it. I have a record for many things, I do not need “accomplice to kidnapping” to be added. I packed a bag, took as much money from my savings as possible, which doesn’t help my case, and I ran. That was exactly sixteen days ago, on my birthday. It’s not been a very good twenty one years. I have to quite writing. It’s getting too dark in the woods. I’ve got sleep, anyway. Tomorrow I get to Mexico.