I’ve been out of the bin for a few weeks now. The Powers-That-Be (thankfully) approved my discharge plans and sent me packing. Now all I’m supposed to do is this:
1. Take my medicine
2. Take my medicine
3. Take my medicine
4. Admit that my insides look like everyone else’s insides (A.K.A.: Deny the existence of a flora-and-fauna-filled wilderness in my guts.)
Easier said than done done done, I say. You must suffer the darkness in order to see the stars, they say. Bullshit macaroni treetop cytoplasm, I say. I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet, they say.
**(I will be posting little experts from stories here and there and here. If there is a bit that really catches your eye, feel free to leave a comment, and I will probably post more of that story!)**
1. Take my medicine
2. Take my medicine
3. Take my medicine
4. Admit that my insides look like everyone else’s insides (A.K.A.: Deny the existence of a flora-and-fauna-filled wilderness in my guts.)
Easier said than done done done, I say. You must suffer the darkness in order to see the stars, they say. Bullshit macaroni treetop cytoplasm, I say. I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet, they say.
**(I will be posting little experts from stories here and there and here. If there is a bit that really catches your eye, feel free to leave a comment, and I will probably post more of that story!)**
RSS Feed
