I deleted my personal blog because it was filled with sob stories about people I honestly could not give to shits about anymore. I suspect this one has a shelf-flife too. but until such sad day in history comes, it'll serve as a place to vent, and bitch and moan, about people. most of whom will one day claim they knew me. Bitches.
In case you can't tell, i say about 99.9% of the things I say in absolute Jest. I am not one to be taken seriously, unless I instruct you to do so, in which case, I probably have a knife in my pocket.
Read away, Nosy cunt.
I never apologize for anything ever. this feels so weird to actually, genuinely be sorry about something that I said out loud and the consequences it has had so far today. I am a dick. I kinda wish I was dead, but since we all know that isn’t going to happen because… well, not for lack of trying, but it’s just not…. I kinda just want everything to be okay again.
And it’s literally all ego. It’s a problem.
Off the top of my head, I can name 20-30 people that would kill to be in your place, and so I won’t let myself hold on to someone who doesn’t want to be there anymore.
Maybe I should learn to ask people to stay when I need them to. but I probably won’t, ever.
Once you’ve had your heart broken to the point where you don’t want to eat and you don’t care what color the streetlight just turned, you’re gonna cross the street… then you’re free. Because it will pass, and no emotion in the world will ever hurt that badly again.
The fact that I walked into a Swine Flu dispenser and walked out unscathed >
The fact that I bought a Walking Dead board game this weekend >
The fact that I did not spend ONE DOLLAR on alcohol for the first 48 consecutive hours this year >
The fact that I was still able to make money off of Ultra even though I didn’t actually end up going >
My Cow »»
and now it’s 1 a.m, and why am I sad? :/
I fucking love this cow. like, honestly. it’s a problem. I enjoy every second I’m with this girl a lot more than I’ve enjoyed anything else lately. Keeps around.
She makes the headache go away. nobody’s ever done that.
Not for the Dog.
Not for the cheating.
Not for the hospital bills.
Not for the car (I’ll go halfsies on the blame there.)
So no, you’re not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me;
Any of you.
The worst thing that’s ever happened to me was that she fucking died with a shit eating grin on her face and now I’m expected to remember her in a positive light, and no…
she can’t have that.
If there’s a hell, I’ll see you again, but I doubt it.