It ain't gonna happen.

I gift. And I give and I give and I write and I left. I love and I love and I take what I want. And I use it for material. And I am crazy!!! And shouldn't that be enough? Because it's never going to happen, no matter how much I write and talk about what I want, The girl against all odds in me says to MoveOn. Keep on keeping on, go get them. We shall see the contestants lineup for this contract on Eve Rising. Oh yeah in my own little world the headhunters are lining up, they all want my booty. Laws of attraction baby! The bigger the head the better the script, crazy happenings...for sinners and saints alike.

I just can't stop. But I need to truck along come up with some new fantasy that doesn't have to do with the tailgater, tagalong, mystery man who haunts  my every waking nightmare.  Sure this is a fairytale...fairytale princes have competition! Don't they always? Bigger trucks. More money. Less bitching. Should make for an interesting twist. I am so superficial that all I care about is the newer truck I mean at least get a 2003 Cmon. And if you can't roll with the taking care of a lady who is virtually mentally handicapped van and kids apply, then don't bother. lol. I am looking for someone to spoonfeed me ice cream while I gained 80 pounds, lay around the house all day, occasionally Yell at my children to do something correct, and once in a while we will go thrift store shopping, to accommodate my change in size...you know I do have a clothing addiction! This is my fairytale PS you better fukn like it.

Okay so I'm sizzling your Sizzler… But really reality is that I am falling for another person. And as the world breathes a sigh of relief...I question what all it is I want to do with the story of redemption and psychologically mysterious tuna sandwiches and Intensely popped cherries… And what it all meant to me. My forte is not being serious, I'd rather laugh than punch you in the throat. Although everyone who is sane thinks The Ken Doll is seriously the range of emotions, of well you see I can't say what they say. I don't have the heart to. No matter how hard I try to go along, or go away, or get the funk out of my heart, what a Shame. He is a Sham son. I know...I know nobody really gets what that is because it's in my book that is not published!  I don't think it will work for my writing to ever forget him. Maybe unfair to anyone I am with… And unfair to everybody that it doesn't make sense to. How can you love someone who has treated you so poorly? I don't have your answer Mr. Scrooge.
Forgive me for being unfair and leaving a certain percentage of my heart to Adam Raposa at this time. You can have everything but that little piece where he just has to be, and that's all there is to it. I wouldn't be inspired, and I wouldn't be alive, if I hadn't kept him in that space. Fiction or fantasy or real, opinions are like assholes, straight.

And I just got a compliment on feeling my feelings I said it's a bad thing he said it was a good thing. That's straight up weird.

And then the texting conversation led to the sweetest thing I've ever heard..."you got love even for disabled bipolar bitches?"
He says "Nothing but love especially for my disabled bipolar bitch."
and I said "love me like you do."LOL.

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