you would spit on me, you would make me spit

Irony, my life has it. Men fall in love with me, declare they cannot live with me. Once it is certain that they have me, they squander what I’ve given to them.

And the song began to play, and I knew I would be happy to be with Chris, but I was hit with the notion that I just could not lose her; I would be utterly empty, a broken man without her. So I sat down on the toilet, and for the remaining three and a half minutes of the song I just sat there and bawled my eyes out.

To say that I don’t ever want to lose her is a gross understatement.

I hate that you make me hate you. I despise being this angry and bitter, and that such a bald-faced lying toad-shit piece of nothing like you has the power to make me feel this way.
All of you – all you ever had to do was TELL THE TRUTH.

I write, as openly as possible, about my experiences with life, love, creativity, depression and not-depression. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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