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Fri, Oct 10 2025, 4:39am PDTLogin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 123[4]567 ]


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Date Posted: Tue, Oct 19 2004, 3:57pm PDT
Author: Salem McCartney
Subject:
I'm slipping away
In every way
I can't stay away
(and I don't know why)
I'm slipping away


[o]The male that entered let out a soft sigh of relief, this looked like the sort of place that he could get by in without getting recognized. He was twenty-three years old and lucky to have reached that, the life he had lived had gone spiraling downwards since he hit twenty. All through high school he had been one of those good boys who went to participated in drama, and had good grades. The shy girls liked him because he was shy and cute, but the hot, popular ones stayed away from him because he was considered odd. When he graduated he went off to study drama at a pretty good university, and then in his second year a manager had come on the scene after seeing him in a play. His career had rocketed right onto popular television and the big screen, and of course things had changed drastically. Suddenly he had women hanging off of him everywheres, everyone wanted to be his friend, and that was also where things went wrong. He had fallen into a bad crowd, became so dependant on heroine that he needed it before he could go before a camera, and pretty soon it started to effect his acting skills. After getting rushed to the hospital when he had overdosed on his latest movie set he had been booked into a rehab centre by a judge and that was where he had spent the last three months. His manager had told him to go away from publicity, find a quiet place to try and get his life straightened out, because no director was going to want him in their movie until he had proved he was drug free for quite some time.


His tall, thin frame was clad in a pair of warn jeans, a white t-shirt, black unbuttoned dressed shirt and an old, black leather jacket. Shaggy, dark hair hung slightly in his eyes as he stepped in and walked across the room. He seated himself down in a chair, booted feet crossed on top of a nearby coffee table. Leaning down into the chair with his hands in his pockets he settled in with his head back against the top of the chair, and his eyes closed. It had been a long drive here from L.A., and he was exhausted.[o]

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