I could bitch about how no one understands me. I could blame the fact that I am having a hard time doing the shit I need to do, but it’s not my fault; no. It’s mom’s fault for putting so much pressure on me. Its dad’s fault for doing what he did to us. It’s not my fault. It never is. I could say it’s all of these things that are making me feel the way I do, but in the end; I know its bullshit; complete and perfectly composed bullshit. My life is my own and my mistakes are no ones fault but mine. My poor planning ability, my acute sense to avoid all problems, and my remarkable mind set that other people are supposed to fix my problems and all I have to do is wait for them to find me.

I have many faults that I’m all too aware of and people never cease to remind me of them. Not intentionally, to play fair,

I wanted to say my current there is not here; I wanted to say my current there is in Milwaukee, where ever you are. But I can’t; I’m not allowed. You are not mine but I am forever yours. You roll your eyes at this because I am speaking fact not romanticist-like dreams. I am yours not matter how much I don’t want to be, but you will never be mine. You know this, and I comprehend this better than you ever could. And this makes sense to you. You are not me and therefore can see what I mean. You, who have an open mind and you who have stolen my heart and forgot where you put it so, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t give it back.

The truth is I do blame you but the painful truth is I could never truly hate you