I could have written many different posts right now. Hell, I could have written many posts this past while if I hadn't been in an utter fog of lost purpose and emotional sterility. This post had to be the one that came out of my mental uterus before succumbing to my regularly scheduled Netflix coma tonight. I am talking about the lack of real love compatibility with any living organism other than my own self loathing. However, my relationship with myself is bound to end in divorce the way things are going. I am the silent movie version of a drama queen. Nothing said, yet only typed in a clicking whimper. What in the hell am I talking about? How the fuck should I know? I only live here too. I think the worst of it is that I am the problem: a 120V plugged into 220V. The iron has caught on fire and is burning the house down. If I could just get my own personal converter, I think I could stop this and it would be safe for someone else to take residence inside me.
This is the part where I write something to make it all better, and it might be. This just needed letting out tonight. Read with care. I appreciate my friends who have stuck with me through my journey so far.
3 years ago