That urge to write that I’ve been having for the past 4 days has finally found its way.
Oh bloody life. I have come to realize, once again, that I am wrong. Not in an opinion or view. No, I am wrong. My personality is wrong. It is wrong. I have a big defect that is way worse than any insecurity or psychological disease, even though soon enough I will go nuts.
It’s everywhere around me, all the signs were there, I refused to believe, until I got myself to a point where the signs’ obviousness brought me down and killed me.
I can finally break it to the world: I am single. Because I gave.
This is it, this marks the end of giving.
I am selfish. Take it or leave it.
If you take it, you know what comes along.
If you leave it, you’ll be doing me a favor.