A nice round bottom to spoon against.
My jeep cleaned up.
My apartment vacuumed.
I should go eat some lunch.
Then I’ll be good to go.
I mean, how do they help. I already know what’s wrong and I can’t fix it. I’ve been twice. I cancelled yesterday’s appointment because I don’t see the point. I’m a private person, whining to this yahoo ain’t helping anything, just let’s another judge me. I’m very close to leaving, I’m having the same feeling you get on your last day on the job, the last day of school. I’m done. There will be another failure and that’ll be enough to push the first domino.
Why the fuck do I NEED therapy. It won’t fix anything.
Ever catch the scent in a girl’s hair when you go in to kiss her neck?
I miss that.
In younger days, when I thought my life was truly bad and even wasted, I casually thought of killing myself. Of course, I wasn’t being realistic. I had never experienced loss. I was alone but healthy, I was in debt but employed, and most importantly, I couldn’t leave my daughter alone with my death.
My daughter kept me alive for 24 years. She was my best reason to stay alive.
“You can have it all, my empire of dirt. I will let you down, I will make you hurt.” – Hurt, Trent Reznor
I used to cry when I heard that song, thinking I could relate. I never needed ‘stuff’. Thinking I could do everything on my own. […]