sick to fucking death

of being an emotional cripple.

i don't know how to date.

i don't know what's "appropriate" to talk about, so i talk about less and less until it's so diminished there's nothing left and then i wonder what happened. is it me? is it him? is it that the us is just off?

all of which reminds, me, hello, there is no fucking up. it's just life. i am the judge and jury. i am granting me a pardon. free pass. have fun, be nice.