You are the only one that understands what I'm going through, no reply is needed, but input is appriciated. I just want someone to know. I'm also pretty drunk after 2 beers.
Here you go.
Why the marriage? What is the point? It's so absolute and life is not.
It's not so absolute.
How appropriate that you would call during "Ampersand." I really don't want to live my live on one side of an ampersand. I want to be me. I'm slipping away in your June Cleaver world. Fuck that. I'm so unhappy. You fuck like a robot. Where is your passion in life. What is your art? The art of football and paramedicine? That's not art. That's robotics. We need to drink. You fucking need a DRINK. Maybe your robot ass would calm down, maybe, just maybe, you might feel the passion life has to offer. But beer is the passion of the devil. I'm not going to slip away into your purist world. Go back to your 17 year-old whore. I have MEN to fuck. Many passionate and complicated men.
Our wedding will be a funeral procession. I should show up in my black dress escorted by a herst with my bouquet of black roses. This is not me. I want to break free I'm bigger than you. I'm bigger than my small body will allow. Fuck the system. I'm me. Let me be me! I'm dark, drunk, powerful, passionate, anachronistic, artistic in eating and feeding. My kid is fine with out you. He will be mine, he is slipping away from me--into sports and not the art of life. How was I stupid enough to let you steal him away from me along with my SELF. You sickafant. Never mind
you are too robotic for any sort of fandom, except for your football.
I am me. Set me free.
Yeah, I don't want any told you so. Thanks for listening. I know no matter how much you tell me to fuck off, you still love me.
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