Turtle Life

but I got over it quick enough.

If someone else doesn’t shut down my enthusiasm, I’ve got tried and true methods of correcting myself. I mean who am I to desire things that bring me hope?

I can live with the scars, but this constant pain gets in the way of everything.

And there’s no relief.

This is hell. This must be hell. I died some time ago and this is what hell is all about. No fire. Just eternal suffering without hope for an end to the pain.

Makes sense, now. Most of the time I feel like a dead man walking except I never seem to reach the destination.

So easy to be abandoned. So easily discarded. This isn’t love.

My old friend came by today. This time I let him in.

We talked about ways to get it done. Knives, bridges and that single shot of justice.