Confessions of a Risin’ Star Drugs & Money by Chase Atlantic

It’s gotten to the point that I can’t breathe…

Everyone around me is seemingly a better person with women (or men) than me. I truly believed that such isn’t so, but life insist on making such adverse. If it’s not my past, it’s my present. From the fat overweight wives, to the virgins vivaciously vapin’ for some kind of wonderful, how ever the love they heat for, chooses to wield. I’ve started to believe that there is an undercurrent of negativity (like a demon) who insists on making my life liaison days upon days, without what is so earnestly coveted…Even when I covet it no more, this ghost that governs the motion, moves versus me, in someway, form, or fashion. Such to balance me into emotional submission…

I rummage through stores, catalogues, and sites of sorts. Such actually takes away the sting of loss, momentarily. If a moment is all I’m allowed, than I take that. Such is better than the sour and sting, of this constant loss…

The talks to myself mode slicin’. They only work half the time, so why devote to it, constantly? Why put myself through this anguish? The slut that I banged earlier, seemed like the only way I’m allowed to love. There was a vibe, and she retuned it. Such is more than what love, romance, work, and my town has done for me in such regards. Such pulls me into deeply desiring death. (I secretly seem to myself, about whether or not the various electrical cords I see, will work well for release from what is my reality.) I posted drugs and money tonight, online. Love and loss, would n’t weave any returns for me; however, I can’t complain much. This I the life I chose…

I asked for all of this, devoutly…

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