Here's something you might be interested in.
The levels of your insanity are borderline criminal. You can’t possibly think that every woman I talk to is a target of my carnal desire. Seriously? Even on a family vacation, surrounded by people, public streets, bright lights/big city – you really think I was trying to get in this girls pants? Was she pretty? Yes. Was she chesticularly gifted? Very much yes. Did she have a great smile and alpha personality? Sure did. But would even I be dumb enough to try some swagga on her right there? no chance! And the fact that you called into question every person that was with us that night is ridiculous. Hell, I’ve talked to all of them and they all agreed that I was surprisingly a gentleman that night.
You continue to make all our lives hell because you can’t accept reality – any form of affection is merely an act, a charade. Your little journal has become a source of comedic relief for me, catching an insight to the nonsense between your ears.
I don’t hate you – I pity you. Apple not falling far from the tree? Look at your own mother, see her shallow, desolate life spent looking out the windows, living in a world where everyone is against her – is that happiness? Is that contentment? Nope, but it’s exactly where you are headed – and I don’t want to be there with you.
-Me
The levels of your insanity are borderline criminal. You can’t possibly think that every woman I talk to is a target of my carnal desire. Seriously? Even on a family vacation, surrounded by people, public streets, bright lights/big city – you really think I was trying to get in this girls pants? Was she pretty? Yes. Was she chesticularly gifted? Very much yes. Did she have a great smile and alpha personality? Sure did. But would even I be dumb enough to try some swagga on her right there? no chance! And the fact that you called into question every person that was with us that night is ridiculous. Hell, I’ve talked to all of them and they all agreed that I was surprisingly a gentleman that night.
You continue to make all our lives hell because you can’t accept reality – any form of affection is merely an act, a charade. Your little journal has become a source of comedic relief for me, catching an insight to the nonsense between your ears.
I don’t hate you – I pity you. Apple not falling far from the tree? Look at your own mother, see her shallow, desolate life spent looking out the windows, living in a world where everyone is against her – is that happiness? Is that contentment? Nope, but it’s exactly where you are headed – and I don’t want to be there with you.
-Me