I’m Going Off The Rails On A Crazy Train I Know That Things Are Going Wrong For Me

What the fuck. My Grandpa just made a pass at me. What the fuck. What the fuck.

I’m living the fucken twilight zone you guys.

Earlier today he asked me if I was still taking my ‘medication’ and I remembered that my mom had told both him and my aunt how I indulge in weed and it helps with my seizure related headaches. So I told him that normally I ‘take’ it every night but I didn’t bring anything on this trip because… well awkward (ha little did I know how awkward/awful it was going to get). So he started talking about how he had a few joints around and how he hadn’t smoked since before my grandma (HIS WIFE) died in June. (Quick reminder, I’m in town for her memorial, which happened yesterday) So he suggested we smoke a joint together later at night. I was honestly just thrilled because I’ve had the worst sleeps the last two nights and I just wanted to have like a solid 6 hours of sleep and I would be ecstatic.

So everyone else finally went to bed today and we sat in the carport/garage and had a few drags each, finishing about half the joint. Meanwhile he’s talking all this stuff about how he’s got these friends who grow it here and he can get it for me no problem. And then after a couple puffs he says OK that’s enough especially if you don’t smoke. (I had explained how edibles are my go to). I’m feeling nothing at this point but I’m not gonna push it, so we say our goodnights and I figured that was that.

I get into bed and put in my earplugs a cousin gave me yesterday in an attempt to sleep better, and start to browse instagram a bit, even considered starting a post but figured I would wait until I get home because I have SO much to say, when I felt a hand on my ankle.

These earplugs are amazing, It’s my grandpa asking if I wanna go finish the doobie as he so often calls it, and I didn’t hear him walk in at all. I’m totally up for it because at this point I feel nothing yet, so we step right out my door into the garage (I’m sleeping in a room that’s not an actual room but a link between his room and a carport type thing… in a trailer park… it’s hard to explain.) Anyways we go outside and finish off the first one and he asks me to grab his stash from inside and we light up another one.

Now I finally have a light buzz, but he’s gone, like way far gone. I asked him how he was. Just a simple question, ‘how are you’ and he gets all existential on me.

How are any of us? I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve got. And here I am thinking he’s thinking about my recently deceased grandmother. And so I’m trying to just make him feel better, saying things like we can’t always plan out everything in life. We don’t know what to expect but we make it work.

And I don’t even remember his exact words because I’m still so shocked it happened, but he went with what I said, and rolled it into how we don’t know what to expect and we have to make the best of it…. and we should make the best of this moment him and I.

What the fuck? Did I just hear what I think I heard? Maybe this BC weed is messing with my head differently. So I just kinda let it slide. Thinking I totally misread the situation, or at the very least misheard.

But then he legitimately said here I am making a pass at my own grandchild. And he keeps trying to put his hand on my knee or leg and I’m like grandpa stop. No thanks. And so he stands up while I’m still sitting on my chair and tried to give me a hug and I had to push him back with both hands on his chest while he tried to kiss the top of my head. And then he finally walked away.

And my head is just messed up. Not like in a confused way like oh maybe I should’ve… No definitely not. But in a what the fuck just happened to me way.

When he walked back into the house he left the door ajar and I’m slightly shocked/confused/scared/worried. So I followed, but not too close that he thinks I’m following to join him, but to make sure the horny bastard doesn’t do anything to Z or even little E.

He passed both of them sleeping on the floor in my ‘room’, and I closed the door connecting our rooms and then went back outside to just… wrap my head around “this”, whatever this is.

Ok, I get that he’s lonely, his wife just died. And maybe weed makes some people horny, and obviously we don’t think 100% how we normally would while we’re high, but come the fuck on. My Grandfather. My flesh and blood grandpa. Who’s turning 82 tomorrow. Just hit on me.

And if you can’t keep it together enough to realize that? Than you shouldn’t be smoking for starters is really all I can think of to say right now. Other than that I’m speechless. So I’m heading to bed. And I’ve decided to sleep WITHOUT the earplugs tonight for those if you wondering.


-Ozzy Ozbourne/Crazy Train-

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Cause In The Night I Hear Him Talk The Coldest Story Ever Told Somewhere Far Along This Road He Lost His Soul

I received a message from E letting me know that his dad had passed away last night, as well as one from my brother-in-law (because according to the law we are still married (so in laws it is).

I can honestly say… I didn’t really care. This man for all intents and purposes tried to kill me once (check it out here: Tell the World I’m Coming… Home ) in one of my most stressful days ever.  So to say I feel a great loss would be a huge lie. I did message E to express my condolences and to make sure he was doing OK, because I’m a (half)decent human being.

E replied that yes, he was doing ok, but now as the day has evolved I’ve realized that he is far from that. He’s so far called me EIGHT times at work. Today. Already. It’s not even 2 o’clock. I made the mistake of asking if he was going to fly back to Kenya for the funeral or if there was going to be one, and now he got the idea in his head that the kids should go with him.

Uhhhh, that’s gonna be a hard no. I officially have sole custody of both the kids and there is no way in Hell (Heaven or Earth or anywhere else you can think of) that my kids are going to with E back to Kenya. ESPECIALLY at this age. EXTRA ESPECIALLY (I know that’s very grammatically incorrect but work with me) without our divorce finalized. SUPERDUPERLY ESPECIALLY without me.

So now he’s calling me constantly asking again and again “just in case” I changed my mind. But more so because I don’t think he knows how else to handle his emotions right now. Since I’ve known E, he’s never lost anyone close to him, and now his dad has died. I understand it must be beyond difficult. I get that. But unfortunately, past behaviours have dictated that the kids are not safe to travel with him. So it is what it is. I told him that the kids and I would call him tonight to talk and maybe that would help ground him, but I made it clear that they would not be going back with him. If he wants to press it further he will have to contact his lawyer, but there’s not much else he can do, and calling me every 15 minutes won’t help. Even in the case that he does try to call his lawyer, I’m quite confident that nothing will happen, and they kids will be staying with me.

Part of me wonders how this will affect his mental stability. Can he make it through this without having another break down and ending up in the hospital for months again? Are his medications strong enough to keep the voices/paranoia away during this stressful time? Are the kids safe to spend their 2-3 hours with him when he comes back to town again? Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, and there’s nothing to worry about, but as a mother, you always want to protect your kids first. And for myself, I’ve seen danger with E too many times to not see this as a massive source of stress for E that might act as a huge potential trigger for relapse.

All I can do now is stand firm in my position that the kids are staying with me, and be decent to E, so I don’t cause any more stress to him then already present.


-Kanye West/Heartless-

 

While You Laughin’ We’re Passin’ Passin’ Away 

Stoic. Heartless. Cold blooded.  Emotionless. Indifferent. Uncaring. Reserved. Nonchalant. Apathetic. Matter of fact. Bitch. All names I’ve been called in the past that make complete sense to me now.

I received the call today. My grandma passed away a couple of hours ago. And I really, unfortunately don’t feel much towards the situation. And that in itself didn’t bother me, because I know myself. I knew I would have little to no reaction to her passing. Like I mentioned before, it’s life we’re living, and with that comes death. What bothered me though, was how little E responded to the news.

I explained it as sensitively as I could, while still not mincing the truth. Grandma was very sick, and in a lot of pain, and her body was no longer strong enough to fight anymore so she has now passed away and has died. That was enough to make little E tear up on the spot.

I guess I wasn’t expecting his reaction only because I wasn’t at all bothered by her death, but I’m learning that not everyone is like me. I’ve spent years learning how to control my emotional response to get it to where it is today, I can’t expect the same from a 6 year old. So it was a learning experience for me as a mom. How can I teach little E to deal with his emotions? And quite honestly… put on the spot like that was challenging.

I tried discussing it with him at first but I could just tell that he wasn’t listening, so I asked him if he wanted me to stop talking for a bit and just let him think it through a little, and he nodded yes. But as I let him sit for maybe 2 minutes, when I would look over I would see him tear up every so often and I knew this solution was not the right one, since he wasn’t getting any better.

I offered first off to give him a hug, which he didn’t want. So I asked him what did he want to do? Did he want to play basketball in his room with me? Thinking that could get some of the emotion/energy out. Nope he didn’t want to. Did he want to break something (willing to offer up a plate or something, since they’re all replaceable) Nope. Did he want to colour a picture and rip it up into a million pieces? Nope. Did he want to turn up the music really loud and dance super silly in the living room? Yep, we had a winner.

So the 3 of us walked to the living room where little E turned on the music and then just sat on the couch. Z and I started dancing and while I tried to encourage little E to join us twice, I knew he would only do it when he was ready. After a song or two he got up and grabbed a drawing board out of the toy bin and started just scribbling the whole thing black and wiping it off repeatedly. Then after about 10 minutes, he wrote out “mom can you guess if I’m happy / sad now” and handed me the board asking me to circle one.

I circled sad, and he nodded his head. I told him it’s completely ok to be sad because someone close to you has died. You shouldn’t be embarrassed because your sad. And it’s ok if these feelings last a little while. That’s ok. Just understand that you will not be sad forever. You are still alive. And even though everyone will die one day, you are still alive today. So be sad for now, because that’s ok. Cry for tonight because your great grandma died. But then remember one day it’s time to be happy again. Because you are still alive.

And he was good with that. It told him his feelings were valid. Because feeling pain is just as important as feeling joy. If you don’t feel your lows, your highs aren’t as impressive. So I felt I had an opportunity to teach him a valuable lesson about that tonight. But that conversation of course led way to everything else that the death conversation brings.

He learned about graveyards, funerals, cremation, ashes, Arizona, Phoenix Coyotes, cancer, chemotherapy, radiation, organ donation, organs in general, what the kidney does, who will take care of them if I have to go and take care of my mom when she’s dying…. it was a long and winding conversation (as they all are when a 3&6 year old are asking the questions). Part of which lead me to say that when we die our soul/spirit is no longer in the body, and we are just skin and bone remaining. To which little E said “so God can take grandma’s soul/spirit and put it into a new little baby!” which caught me off guard.

I recently been trying to tell my kids about as many different religions as possible so that when they have gathered as much information as they think is enough, they can make their informed decision about how they live their life regarding spirituality. I don’t want them to be ignorant, but I also don’t want them believing something, just because someone said it was the best for them. It’s a fine line. For myself, I’m not 100% sure what I believe about the afterlife. Mainly because I’ve never been dead before and so I can’t know for sure what happens when you die. I’d like to think at this point in time there’s a heaven because it sounds pretty enjoyable, better than a black nothingness or the hell option. But I don’t think I believe in reincarnation. Therefore, when little E made his comment, I had to check myself to make sure what I said didn’t influence his choices and growth. So I just nodded at him and said yeah maybe, and then maybe you might see a baby and it could be grandmas spirit. Or maybe in a bird or a flower. You might see grandma anywhere, then you don’t have to be sad about not seeing her until you die (something that had bothered him). Little E though through everything we had discussed and seemed to be much better about it all.

As for myself? I’m still surprised it affected him this much, but that’s just me. The cold-hearted bitch.


-Bone Thugs-N-Harmony/Tha Crossroads-

And If I Don’t Make It, Know That I Loved You All Along

My Grandma is dying. She was diagnosed less than two months ago with lung cancer that has spread like wild-fire into her spine and throughout her body. Chemo was a no go, because the cancer was too far gone, and Radiation has only been recommended to help shrink some of the larger tumours that are causing her so much pain she can’t even sit or stand, but not as a cure. She has deteriorated so quickly that as of this past Monday, she was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance while she had a heart attack, and is now being placed on palliative care.

In the simplest terms, she is waiting to die.

Death brings out the worst in everyone, and my mom has been trying her best to help, but things came to a head yesterday after she returned home from what could be her last time seeing her own mother. She spent the last week in BC, taking my grandma to and from the hospital and lawyers offices and cooking, and cleaning for her, all while watching the woman who raised her wilt away to nothing.

My grandma can’t do anything for more than 5-10 minutes before having to have a nap because she is drained from exerting any energy. So, my sisters, N & R and I figured we should plan a trip, sooner rather than later to go visit her one last time.

R asked me to look into flight costs and find the best price (since I’ve done the most travel and have the best experience with booking flights). BUT because of R’s busy life, she’s only available like 2 out of the next 16 days and she wants to go there and back on the same day. ALSO since she’s on a strict budget, she expects me to find return flights for under $200. Ummmm yeeeeah. Highly doubtful. So then she brings up the fact that she saw some deal for flights to “somewhere in BC for $49 so it should be fine!” Um, the flights you saw go to a city 4 hours from where we need to be?!? So she recommends that we fly there and rent a car and drive the rest of the way.

What? You wanna fly inbound, in the morning, drive 4 hours, visit for 10 minutes, drive back 4 hours, catch another flight and be home in time to put the kids to bed the same night? Like it would just be much simpler to just fly straight to the city we need to be in, even if it means spending a little more money, the PITA factor will more than make up for it.

I told her I would work on it, but in the end I found a flight for $269 that she thought was cool.  Either way, I’m good since my boss overheard the tail end of one of my calls with R and so I explained about my grandma and how I might need a day off next week and he was fine with that… SOOO cool in fact, that about 20 minutes later, he came by my desk and told me to let him know before I book my tickets because there might be some “arrangements” he can make. The co-owner of my company lives in the same place I have to go, and he said we can possibly write it off as a work trip saying I have to “meet” with the owner while I’m there for my 3 month review, and probably pay for it with points. So basically he’s willing to pay for my flight as a business expense, woo me!

But as it turns out, after all this arranging back and forth, looking for flights, rental cars, getting free trips from my boss, calls between sisters… turns out my grandma no longer wants to have any visitors.

She has asked that no body else comes to see her, since it’s becoming to overwhelming for her, and she’d rather people remember her as she was instead of how she is now, which I gather from my mom is pretty rough.

Ok, I totally get it. I don’t like people around when I’m sick, didn’t want people around when I gave birth. I don’t like indulging people to make them feel comfortable, I can only imagine how I would feel at that time in my life when I know I basically have nothing left time wise. Maybe I’d want to be surrounded by loved ones… but only if they were silent. I remember I screamed at the doctors to shut up when I gave birth, and then apologized profusely after lol. But sometimes just knowing people are there helps. You don’t need the nervous chitchat. You need peace, and you need people who can bring that peace into your life. And if they can be there with you at the end, then I would welcome them. If they want to try to settle they’re nerves and they’re uncomfortableness with death, then I don’t want them around me while I’m trying to die. Because I’m fine with death and dying. It’s part of life. Or more specifically it’s the end of life, but it’s something EVERYONE on this planet has in common. No matter how you lived, you will die. And I’m fine with that. I have no fear in death. When it’s done, it’s done. And when my grandma dies, I will obviously not be happy, but I will move on with my life, until I die. No, I’m not heartless, I’m just ridiculously practical and probably to logical for my own good.

My mom on the other hand, like most people, is not handling it well. When I called her yesterday to see how her trip went and how she was doing, it was definitely bad timing. When she answered the call I could hear some yelling in the background, and my mom walking into her room.

She’d just been going through a heated exchange with another family member that didn’t end pleasantly at the time.

I had to spend the next hour on the phone with my mom trying to talk to her about it all, explaining where she “might, possibly, slightly” have been wrong. Or actually she was right in her observations about the individual, but had not handled the situation well due to her emotional state.

Like I said, death brings out the worst in people.


-Our Lady Peace/4AM-

And You Can’t Stop Me From Falling Apart

I refuse to watch 13 Reasons Why. As someone who has attempted suicide myself, on more than one occasion, and obviously failed (self high-five), I don’t feel I need to know someone else’s reasons behind killing themselves. Do I think it’s a good show for people to watch who have never experienced suicidal tendencies? Sure, maybe, I don’t know. But like  I said, I won’t watch it, so I can’t advise.
My first attempt was when I was about 16 (I think… in around there). Looking back, my life was pretty good, so from all outward appearances there was nothing that would have given away my intentions.
I grew up in the suburbs, in a brand new house my mom designed and had built when I was 10 using the inheritance my dad got when his parents passed away within a year of each other. I was pretty much a straight A student for the most part until Gr. 12. I had a solid group of friends. I had lots of activities I was involved in, you know the standard boring stuff like band and *synchronized* swimming. I played b-ball in junior high and rugby throughout high school. I wasn’t a “trouble” kid, never even been sent to the principles office (unless the teacher needed and errand kid… then I was your girl) I wasn’t your emotional girly girl, my friends all came to me for advice knowing I could be trusted to keep secrets as well as lead them in the right direction. I’ve never been fired from a job since I first started working at 14.  I was/am fiscally responsible, and bought my first car (at the time a sweet black coupe Sunfire lol) at 16. Basically, I was your model goody-two-shoes citizen.
It would seem I had it all.
So why would someone who had it “so good” feel so desperate that they had to try to kill themselves. Good question. One that I can’t even explain well. It’s like you get to a point where you feel desperate. You feel like no matter what, no matter how hard you try or what you do, it won’t be good enough, or even better, it won’t matter. It comes from inside. It’s not necessarily because of a certain situation or because of something someone said to you, it comes from deep inside of you. You feel like your drowning in yourself. You feel out of control. And as hard as you try to “think positive” or “look at the bright side” or whatever other ridiculous thing people tell you in that moment, the feeling is there. Deep down inside. So you stop telling them about your struggle. You say your fine. You act like your fine. You show no outward appearances of being in trouble. Because you don’t need the words from people who don’t understand you, trying to “make things better” They don’t get that words won’t help. This is a feeling. An emotion. A confliction rising from places you didn’t know existed deep within yourself. Places you’ve tried to keep hidden. Because you are a happy person. Who doesn’t have 13 reasons to kill herself. A person who has a million reasons to live.
Yet, you don’t want to.
So, one night while my parents where out, I very carefully and methodically downed an entire bottle of extra strength Advil, laid down. and went to sleep for what I hoped, in the moment, would be the last time.
Imagine my surprise and to be honest, hurt, confusion and annoyance when I woke up the next morning feeling nothing but a slight stomach ache. WTF? Seriously? How much does it take? So I got up and went to school as per usual. I hardly told anyone until now. Why admit failure at something as ridiculous as this right? lol. I continued with my life as usual thinking back on that night often… than less as time went on.
Until about 3 years ago. Went the feelings came back again. Harder, and much more intense. But this time I was more “mature” about it lol. I had two kids looking up to me, so I at least went for help. I had left E, and was living with my parents again (full circle hey) and I knew I needed help. So one night after I put the kids to sleep I asked my parents if they minded watching the kids while I went out to the clinic, because I really needed to go. Like RIGHT NOW! So I went to the clinic… where the Dr was a douche.
I tried explaining why I was there, and how I was looking for anti depressants. Simple right? Give the depressed suicidal woman antidepressants and everything’s good. At least that how I thought it would go down. But nope. He kept asking why I felt I needed them (Ummmmmmmmm, I’m depressed? Idiot) and saying if I’m suicidal or even overly depressed, he wouldn’t be able to let me leave and would have to call it in to the hospital, and put me under an emergency watch. So all I could think about was that I had already shared too much. I had come for help. And now you want to lock me in a ward somewhere? Nope. Nope nope nope a million times no. I did a hard 180 and back tracked on everything I had said to him and walked out the office ASAP. But as I drove home, the feelings crept back in. Deeper and more desperate than before. If a doctor couldn’t/wouldn’t help me, then what chance did I have? I felt I had done my best going about dealing with it the “proper way” by going to see a “medical professional” and left feeling more overwhelmed then I had an hour ago.
So when I pulled into the garage at my parents house, even though it wasn’t premeditated… I closed the overhead door, and just stayed. I had the car running and the windows down and I just sat there with my eyes closed. I briefly thought about my kids and how they would be fine with my parents, and I could at least enjoy my last moments relaxing with nothing going through my head but whatever songs were on the radio.
Music. One of the most important things in my life. Because it can connect you with/too so many things, but also it can disconnect you from life. Which is what I wanted right then. To forget life. And forget pain, and fear, and every other emotion. I wanted to just  “be” one last time. Until I’m not sure how much later, but my Dad walked out, saying he had heard the garage door, and wondering if I was ok/what I was doing out there.
No. No, I was not ok. I did not get the help I was looking for. And now you’ve interrupted my “master plan” so now what.
Well “now what” turned out to be a visit to a competent doctor the next day at the  urging of my parents. The new doctor worked with me, getting me the proper antidepressants that would work with the seizure meds I’m on, as well as follow up calls and emails to ensure I was doing better. Which for the most part I was.
And I still kinda am. Although, upon reflection, I’ve noticed it’s definitely a S.A.D. thing. Which is not something I’m embarrassed about. Even as recently as this past winter, I’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts. Which is probably why I never felt this way while living in Africa. And although I’m not taking anti depressants anymore, I deal with the emotional pull of the darkness inside myself during that time of year. Something I’m sure will probably happen this coming winter too.
Do I think I’ll try to kill myself again? Not really. But right now, I’m okay. I’m not depressed… for now. So I cannot say for sure. All I know is there are not 13 reasons for me. There is not even one. In my opinion, someone who is suicidal, is that way because nothing makes sense. The thoughts in their head are all “down” and “dark.” It’s definitely not a well written and organized 13 point plan/reasons. It’s just desperation and hopelessness.
Or just someone who has had enough. And I hate to be a downer, but sometimes there aren’t warning signs. I was very good at keeping it to myself, and being a “happy friendly carefree” 16 year-old. I never cut myself, or did any other self harm when I went straight to downing those pills. I never gave anyone a heads up. I didn’t even write a suicide note. I wasn’t in it for the attention, I was trying to do it, to be done with life. I didn’t give two shits what anyone else thought, then and still to this day that’s how I do life.
I have never had someone close to me commit suicide. And I’m truly sorry if you have. But to be honest, it’s not about what you could’ve done to help. Because depression comes from within. And needs to be solved from within. My medication helped me. No conversation with friends or family. No amount of get togethers or going out will help. Because the individual will just paste on a fake smile and then once they go home and are alone, the “dark” thoughts will be back, if they weren’t there the whole time anyways.
Depression is a medical condition that should be helped with medication.
It should not be judged or laughed at. It also should not be made to be explained by the inflicted. Because it can’t be. You either are depressed or you are not. like I said before, nothing in the outer world “makes” you depressed.
For me it came from within. And I shouldn’t need 13 reasons why.


-Skillet/Open Wounds-
 

No Matter What I Do, I’m No Good Without You 

Ahhhh, W. Many of you have asked me about W, and what happened to such a nice guy… why I let him get away. The fact is I never let him go, he was taken from me.

We met one night while I was out dancing with the girls after work. It was an impromptu thing and I was still dressed in my work clothes (black pants and white button up shirt, think server style 😒 mmm attractive hey?) and just wanted a night of fun. So a bunch of us headed to a pub. And there he was. We caught each other’s eye across the dance floor a couple times, he was with his guys and me with mine. But within about 15 minutes he had made his way next to me and we danced for 2-3 hours straight. And that was it. We just danced. My all time favourite thing to do. He was good at it, I’m good at it (humble brag lol) and we just meshed together so well. We took a couple breaks to chill with our individual groups of friends that we came with, but we continued to find each other on the dance floor through out the night. Until I had to leave. I was the DD like always, since I don’t really drink and had to get some friends home, so in a Cinderella type fashion I told him thanks for the night and left without another word.

Well I guess that wasn’t enough for him. He started asking around within my group of friends remaining for my name and number, and I received a voicemail at work the very next morning.

I was a little wary at first since he was almost a decade older then me but I agreed to meet him for coffee later that week when we both had time and hit it off amazingly. He was smart, kind, attractive, sensitive yet strong, always made me laugh, and made me feel like a queen 24/7. We went out the next night again for dinner and played some pool then to his place.

We spent every weekend on the same dance floor where we first met, and over the months our routine was pretty much guaranteed. Movie, dancing til close, back to his place, sleep, off to work, then repeat. I slowly started spending more nights at his place until I pretty much only went to my place to pay rent.

W was a very dedicated man who knew what he believed in. We debated often with passion, but we never argued. He knew my weaknesses and never exploited them. He knew what made me laugh and took joy in seeing me smile. He cared for me after I was raped, and even though I knew he wanted to exact his own revenge, he respected my wishes in how I wanted the situation handled.

I think he’s the only man who’s ever truly loved me.

And then he was murdered.

W was walking home from the club downtown one night when there was a drive by shooting. W was an innocent bystander who was shot and died on the scene.

W had no family here since he had immigrated on his own years ago, so I was left dealing with funeral arrangements. I was now 20 years old and my boyfriend had just been killed at only 29 years old. I had been raped less then 4 months ago and now this.

I was overwhelmed to say the least. That’s when, after a few months after W passed away, I started sleeping around out of… well basically hatred of the world, however little that makes sense.

I felt like I had had my happily ever after and no one would ever compare to W. So I started one night stand after another. After another. And another. And that’s when I met E. After however many men (I stopped counting, because I stopped caring) I met E, and pretty much threw in the towel.

Also explains why I’m not at all a fan of violence, although I don’t think that needs to be explained. Innocent people are hurt or killed all the time, and they leave behind loved ones. And maybe they aren’t innocent, maybe for some reason they were involved in some sort of shit. I still don’t think violence, of any kind, be it guns or fists or anything, is the answer. I think if you can’t figure out how to solve your issues with your mind/words, then your shouldn’t be fighting. You obviously don’t have the strength it will take to win.


-Rihanna/Love on the Brain-