So, for the third time in two weeks, I guest posted with The Good Men Project. You can read it here.
But it made me bold. It made me think I could go digging around in the shit between he and I like I was fucking invincible.
And then I found the messages.
Ah. Goddam. Like a hole was punched through my chest. And then I poured Tito’s into it. And lit it on fire.
I’m talking about, bitch, I damned near folded like a fucking lawn chair.
Now you would think I would have recoiled from the shit like it was a cottonmouth, but fuck no.
I scrolled all the way up. Like the dumbest bitch in America. I walked all the way through it.
What the fuck is wrong with your girl, y’all? I’m a fucking masochist, that’s what.
I sat in the floor, ugly crying for a solid twenty minutes, Puffin staring at me like “bitch, you knew better, don’t look at me for help”.
That little dog is an asshole.
I remember now how I wrote what I did. I remember because I just rolled around in something dead and now the stench of it is upon me. I wonder if I should bathe in tomato juice?
I’ll peel my fucking skin off with the damned cheese grater if I have to.
I couldn’t do any more archaeological digs, so I came here to chatterface at y’all for a minute. I think we all know why.
I need a goddam lobotomy. Where is my good icepick when I need it?
Anyway, I’ll be over here pouring this fucking Ragu into the tub if anyone is looking for me. Gonna be a long night here in my neck of the hood. If anyone else is wallowing around in something old and rotted, please, give a Bitchface a holler. Obviously, I don’t have anything productive to fucking do.
The shit I’m doing is just fucking stupid. Feel free paint your face and join this Bozo as I’m doing nothing but clown shit.
Huggin you tight in my heart. You fight the good fight.
My Bigmom always said everyone who comes into your life is one of two things: a lesson or a blessin’. She added that often, there’s more than one lesson.