So there you have it, it's either a slow-painful-tortuous death or me. Pick one. Thank you. Good bye.
August 18, 2010
I got my phone bill today, and what-should-made-me-cringe, made me grin instead. Yet more proof, if any was needed, that I'm hovering on the edges of dementia. The more I talk to you, the more I want to talk to you. The more I want to talk to you, the more I try to resist this particular addiction. The more I try to resist, the more compelled I am to give in (because what else does one do with temptation, I've been taught). Truth is, when all is said and done, **I want you** very very much. I sincerely hope you want me too. Because if you don't (and I admit there is a small-small possibility that you may not) I shall have no choice but to hunt you down and kill you.