I used to think I was a poet, but I am now ok with just being a person who voices their opinion on a free blog site. The last time I was admitted to the emergency room for “suicidal thoughts,” which is hilarious…. nothing more than some IV fluids of potassium. could fix the thousands of dollars my family was billed (thanks! by the way) … the man who was questioning me said to never make your internal thoughts public. So, essentially, I need to have a diary as if I am a pre-teen child? I need to get myself a “hello kitty” notebook and scribble my thoughts in it like a pedophilac mental patient? Great.
I just wanted to recount what it is like being someone who has several stamps of failure between them and reflections of failure and then . Just looking at this screen– as I type,,, Beyond my strings of hair on my forehead, beyond the pixels of a monitor, there are always those blocking truths. I only state the facts… which, by the way, ruined my past relationships– I was honest about infidelity. I always will be honest about everything. I have been infidel in the past, but honest immediately. Relationship terminated. My current as of 03/16…..4 years. Completely dedicated to her. Megan is the best thing that could happen to me and the last person to read this message. But, I don’t care. I’m so fucking FUCKING LUCKY. I treasure each day. Just wait until her actual anniversary day.