Sigh ... whatever. You know I don't wallow. I do hold grudges for years, but wallowing is not my cup of tea. Too melodramatic and you know how I feel about drama.
So on that note, permit me to return to my usual insanity.
Death do not toy with me!
Either you want me or you don't, I don't play that coy game. We're not kids on a playground. You want me, you come get me and stop leading me on.
Sticking a gun in my face and not pulling the trigger? You listen to me. I've been expecting to die young for YEARS. Now I'm almost ... (shudder) ... thirty and I'm not dead yet! And you're playing with me? Do not make me come after you.
And if it's not Death that played this mean trick on me, then it must be my nemesis (if he exists). That's right God I'm onto you. Still trying to get me to believe? HA Gotcha again Sucka. You can't scare me into believing so easily. And frankly I'm insulted. A gun in the face? That's it? Where's my flood? Where's my Armageddon? Where's my Lazarus rising from the ashes? We both know I deserve some spectacular, to convert me. Don't be cheap. You let Jesus walk on water for some fishermen. Come on man. Or woman.
Yeah I know how contradictory my statements are, but I HAD A GUN IN MY FACE so right now I get to write whatever I want. Isn't that right Sheena? And just so you know I'll be cashing that one in for the next three months and then bringing it up at family get togethers. Because I HAD A GUN IN MY FACE BITCHES so unless someone threw a bomb at you, don't bring your shit to me cause I win and I win infinity until your pity party can top my kick ass new excuse for everything.
Previous -- Obsessions
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