Brought to you by the effects of Stockholm Syndrome from holding myself hostage for so many years.
Monday, February 19, 2007
I was walking off a football pitch just North of Firth Park in Sheffield and stared at the soil and empty crisp packets and realized that I had chaffed ass cheeks from running around all day. I mean it really hurt bad. I also suck at footie. I remember feeling pretty down that little girls could run circles around me with a football. I also remember feeling out of place with my surroundings and my purpose for being there. Just overall not being able to understand accents and the people. Yeah, I was one of those guys who went around trying to save your soul, once upon a time. Now, I'm almost too busy trying to save my own to recall those days. God, it is weird to me. Those memories are like reading a book about someone else's life. I don't know why I am even posting this stuff. I agreed to not talk about it expressly, ever, on here. I don't think I will. You got a peek. Now it is time for you all to be all mystified and shit.