That’s not to say that Writers are not social creatures, but it’s true that I come alive when I am alone with my thoughts for a while.
1 Fun workout
2 Postponed/cancelled dates
3 Cakes & cupcakes never got baked (there’s an unintentional drug reference haha)
5 Movies & pizza slices later
And I finally had an epiphany:
I’ll be FINE by myself.
If I can stand being with myself, eventually I’ll find someone else who can put up with my smart-ass remarks, random dance attacks, vain mirror checking rituals & my penchant for doing cartwheels & handstands in my apartment (just to prove that I still can do it).
For starters I could have:
– Got laid at 2 in the morning
– Made cupcakes with a sweet yet complicated girl
– Gone to a Superbowl party
– Been miserable alone
But I did none of those things & I’m perfectly fine with that for some inexplicable reason (shh, I’m the most well adjusted person on the face of the planet).
I’m sure I left a few other tidbits out, but it’s Superbowl Sunday (and I really don’t care).
I’m hitting the showers & happily heading to bed.
Take care cupcakes…mmm cupcakes (drools just a little).
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I’ve got nowhere for you to stay, but I can tell you where you can go.
You’ve got me speechless as I stop and wonder “what was I thinking?”.
I don’t know where to start, somebody tell me what I was tripping on before I fall too far.
Everything was all for nothing, now I know.
It just isn’t the same when I try to let my love out while my heart’s under arrest.
I’m past the point of turning back, I’ll let karma look out for me.