Love, Cool

I want to be in love. I am so tired. Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo tired of this life. Where is the existence.

Then there’s Cool. Not soft warm love, but Cool. Athletics yields Cool. Yeah, yeah? Yeah! No problem. That sort of thing.

I always forget about Cool.

Love I obsess over. When I don’t have it. I do, I do. I doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

I snapped and cracked into my 20x kratom. It is working. I’m not nodding, but my consciousness is being altered as if by a beer. Think of that: Two cups of 20x kratom just for a mild buzz. Think I have a tolerance?

But why do I repeat all this to you so. I’m beating a dead horse. I’m bashing you over the head. It’s not polite.

I always talk about myself with Nick. We never talk about him. Talking about him would help. But I don’t know how to ask. Or do I? Do I really want to talk about other people? Maybe I’m a selfish person? Kind, but selfish? Maybe? Is that it?

Smells like urine for some reason. I always pee myself a little after I am done. It doesn’t just stop.

It doesn’t just stop.

I am so aggravated and irritated all the time and I don’t know why. Sometimes it’s so bad it feels like torture. There’s no reason for it. Neurologics.

Neurologics.

I’m just a defective human being.

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