Haha if you haven’t read my last
blog, please do. It probably presents my drunken mind state better
than this one will manage to lol.
So I talk, a lot. I say completely
(better word that inordinate which was here) things that probably
make you question what the ever loving fuck could be going on in my
head. Totally understandable. I find that the more you allow me to
talk though, the easier it is to grasp what the fuck’s up.
Patterns. (for all you avid followers).
They are something I will never escape. We’re all “locked in”
so to speak, to how “life” is supposed to play out. For example,
when I tell one of my damn good looking friends that literally every
person they talk to at the bar is trying to sleep with them. I’d be
genuinely surprised if upon an interview someone I brought that shit
to said, “Nah, that hot ass chica ain’t really what I’m feeling.”
To me, this speaks to something
important. I know I’m all hell bent on taking the excitement and
surprise out of things…but really. Personally, it doesn’t really
matter if I’m feeling a girl or not. If she isn’t feeling the
same way back, you’re basically a rapist if anything happens. Yes,
I totally understand that many people are comfortable being rapists
in this scenario, but I mean, really that’s not the take home
message.
I suppose I’m bored with fake people
and games. My conception of reality allots for an ever growing amount
of possibilities. This means, I’m literally, never worried about
your judgment. I mean, isn’t that straight disrespectful? Shouldn’t
I qualify your humanity to the same extent that I see mine? And yet,
the fact is, I don’t. Deal with that shit, right?
But to allay worries that I’m ever
upepth my own asseth, I pursue these blogs.
Why is it so hard for people to just
lay out “Hey, I’m attracted to you” or “Hey, it’d be nice
to fuck around?” This is such a recurring thing I’m just so
elated I have genuine excitement to digress upon it endlessly. It’s
what makes me to so…careless...in my handlings of things.
I just simply can’t respect being an
uppity pretentious cunt about things. Your pussy isn’t magic.
(Laughing too incredibly hard right now)
Try being a person. Try developing a
personality. Try being responsible and accountable to someone. You
know why love is a joke to me? Love is a process. Love is a game. If
you choose to disavow the rules, it’s open season. You wanna
pretend you know the game and it’s niggas like me who are going to
shit on you for days. It’s just so impossibly stupid, kinda fun
from time to time, but fucking impossibly stupid.
Look out for my sincere assessments.
That shit’s gonna fuck you up. I mean, unless you a bitch.
