I could spend years, I have, describing the acid that I feel etching my ribs when I think of this – I remember when my steaming pile of shit ex and I moved in, and he accused me of keeping things from him, not trusting him, not being open to a relationship, and basically being closed off and paranoid because I wouldn’t give him my bank account info and pool resources with him and “the household”. Like a dumbass 19 year old, I fell for it.

Words (don’t) Matter

Repetition is part of who I am, and everything I do. I guess I intrinsically know that no one is going to listen to me the first time, or the second time, but after all is said and done – no one can tell me I didn’t tell them so.


I’ve been trying to work on a more pure stream of consciousness style of writing here, as one would observer were there an observer. However, I see that I really have a wandering mind. There’s a lot that I automatically edit even to myself when I think.