Die, you miserable whore.
I’m not really sure what I want to say, but I know I’m actually a better person than that. I know, because I’ve decided that. It’s not something I learned or figured out with my time on street. I decided I’ll be the better person. I haven’t always been, but I am going to now.
Still, for some reason, I can’t go back and delete it. It’s not even that I’ve got a ton I would sacrifice between here and there, and even if there were, there’s no reason I couldn’t have it all out again. I think I really mean it. Maybe not quite literally do I mean, but it’s with feeling that’s truly. Don’t quite know if that negates my decision.
So between you and me, I’ll just leave that there. For posterity, for my sanity, for nothing else other than to voice this nagging feeling to be who I once was. Everyone deserves a couple relapses.