fun with mary

Writing

I could sit here and try to piece together reasons why I hate society and the way my life has played out, I could sit here and do the exact opposite. I don’t know how I feel at this exact moment. I’m a mess. Sloppily thrown together at birth with left over parts that came from both parents pieces missing, chronic depressive fits.             Pretending to find happiness in the woman named Mary, perfection that last a few hours as she takes me higher up into the clouds. Praying no one catches us together as we bond. The deep conversations we have that touch my very core. They thoughts she create that I wouldn’t normally think. She never asks for much just a little time together and a few good bonding moments with my friends. They’ll never understand you like I could. She takes my mind away from the dark depths whenever we spend time together. I use her and she slowly affects me over time. It’s okay with her if I use her as long as she and I can be together a little while longer.

Thoughts don’t race so rapidly when Mary and I are together.

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