Losing more sleep because of the fool’s heart that I evidently am willing to take on in the flux of recent days. That’s always my fault, my achilles, my season in hell reduced to a steering wheel and a possum in my headlights slinking through my yard at 2 in the morning, when I’m coming home from Isela’s apartment. The fool knows that he hasn’t been feeling anything down there in his stomach for more years than he wishes to accept.

I need to stop investing any more already. If she decides to hook up with her ex, which I highly doubt, then fine. It’s just that I don’t think the collywobbles are much worth it. But, yeah. You know me. I want to go back some day in the near future and get the feeling that the Mujer’s visions are going to come true. All I need is the chance. . .

previous - next