This post represents one of those "wounded rants" that people give after going through an incredibly difficult and painful break-up. If you know me, though, these are the only ones I go through.
I'm so tired of even thinking about sex, dating, relationships...et cetera ad nauseum. If it's not the actual person you're relating with/dating with/engaging with/copulating with, it's the friends or family who volunteer their honest, well-intentioned, yet often poorly-timed/delivered or ill-informed opinion.
Morrissey, that oracle of irreverently gothic wit, said that "most people keep their brains between their legs". If that applies to me, it's time for a frontal lobotomy (or maybe just a bottle in fronta me).
I hate it all, and I give up.
The worst part is that I still have such feelings of adoration, love, and friendship for the one who went/was sent away.
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