I write you read.

Haven't written in awhile. My aunt died. Fucking cancer.

*the* ex is a bloody mess. she had a stroke (she's 27) and has a blood clot in her head. she's not the person i fell in love with. she's ------ different. I hope it works out for her.

Job searching sucks. The only joy I have in my life right now is my wonderful mother. She's been so supportive of me and my situation this year.

Fuck the top 2%. This tax cut deal is pure b.s. Fuck the GOP for including this in the bill. Wish Obama was cutthroat. GWB (that bastard) was. Grow a pair Dems. This is utter bullshit.

Aren't drunk rants great? haha

I get so fucking angry at what i'm dealt with. it's selfish. but i should want more. so please gimme more.

because she's fucking better than me.

because she's in love.

fuck that i matter.

I'd put her behind. Then a song reminds me. "Book of Love" by Peter Gabriel. Fuck. It's the song I wanted to propose to her with. On a knee .... looking up to her damaged face. Her face looking down on my battered brows.

I had this shit figured out. I had a plan. I was going to marry her. I was going to be the last man she looked at.

Fuck. fuck. life is bullshit sometimes. well all the times recently.

I'm losing my aunt to cancer. another loss. i'll miss you tia nilda. i'll miss you dearly.

why won't you just give me a break? a chance?

These are cards I'm given ... and I have to use them. So hide behind your religion while I cry and deal with my life.