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Bacterium & Trust.

Posted on December 18, 2013 by admin

Consider the fact that I have been in bed for 3 days, my immune system has been trying to kick off some nasty invader, while penicillin is not working at its best for me. Feeling like a rotten apple. I love every bit of the space I put myself between my loved ones, but when I’m sick, the solitude that comes with that carefully measure space seems to be an immense mistake. I wished someone brought me soup. I wished someone checked if I was still burning.
I miss you much Rachel.

To think that after 3 days being in bed that my rage would actually be lying low on the rage chart. Wrong.

I’m literally pissed with most of the people around me. I’m not exactly pissed off, just amazed. I’m so sick of having to prove myself. I seem to be on some kind of test every minute of the day. Like as if, if I do X, he can tick that one box. If i did Y , he can tick the other box too. And.. wait for it. He can, then, be relieved.. that he can still think of me the way he originally did.

Seriously. Why do I have to keep proving it. Haven’t I done enough to gain it? the trust and respect. You can put me into whatever box you want, its fine with me. But don’t come to me expecting some kind of justification or explanation from me, so that you can feel better. I will never explain myself or my actions unless I need to. If I have to explain, its pretty damn clear you do not know me enough, or you have some issues you have with yourself that you need to fix.

People problems are the worst, and the best too. So good… that sometimes.. gives you breakdown.

Owh, life.

xxxx

The man on the stereo keeps telling me that he is winter wonderland. I wonder when winter wonderland will happen to my heart. Perhaps on the 24th. When I smell cinnamon and spices around the house, with that beautifully tree, and all of us sitting around dinner table jut goofing around about life. There will be happiness for the belly, for the heart, for the soul, for the brain. And doggie love from my best buddy.

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