This is so damn confusing sometimes, this, this love thing. If you love me, then let some things go, stop being so frigging technical about the microwave or the amount of M & M’s I took from the bowl. Does it really matter if me and the boys go to the park now (when they want to!) or later when the chance of them meeting some friends there, is greater? Who cares who’s there, there are swings and seesaws, and we can run around. I swear the woman’s goal is for me to run with stinging killer bee’s chasing me and have me jump off a very very tall brick building bare ass naked, saturated in gasoline and napalm as I smoke a cigarette, bouncing my face off of every concrete window ledge and steel TV antenna on the way down while my flaming broken bleeding faceless body spirals like a giant lawn dart into a mold and rat infested metal trash filled dumpster that a drunk is urinating into currently that is piled high with broken glass, lemon juice and soiled baby diapers, and that dumpster just happens to be located in the deserted alleyway directly behind the reception hall where we got married.



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