Bruised sternum. Three cracked ribs. Sever concussion. I got hit by THE most gorgeous Semi-Truck ever manufactured. If love is blind, then I truly believe that faith should be used as braille. My overall perspective of being a "good companion", a "good father", or even a "good citizen" period has been completely incinerated by a dynamite combination of immoral values, dis-beliefs, and pure hypocrisy. A wolf in fox's clothing. Roger Rabbit's ultimate conquest. Coursing venom sweeter than honey. As a creature of habit, I will surely drown my sorrows in a familiar pool of alcohol and women, prematurely knowing that it will only mask a deficit which will never suffice. Foolish pride tells me go twice as hard, so it will obviously last twice as long. Right? Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday night are stamped, sealed, and delivered with all the bells and whistles attached. Maybe my ingenious theory will work this time minus the annoying stomach aches and temporary pleasures.
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