I completely do not get this and it doesn't feel like home. If you're reading this it's because you know me already or you just found this all accidental-like. Since I can't load my goddamned bookmarks on that OTHER site...fine. I'll put something here.
But I don't know you, Prosebox. You may be a Betrayer, like In The Wire. You may get sucked into oblivion and take my memories with you and then I will hate you as much as I hate David Mumm.
Plus, you do not feel like home. You are not warm and comfortable and squishy and annoyingly predictable. I have a special relationship, you know. I need to know I can unburden on you honestly and you won't disappear into the wind. You have to be able to take it. Sometimes, I'm pretty harsh. Sometimes I piss people off. This happens. If you are not prepared, then leave me now.
Since you're still here, I'll assume you think you are at least equal to the task. I don't know about you, Prosebox. You'll have to go a long way to earning my trust like my dear old friend. Yeah, so I don't trust that old friend but I miss the IDEA of her.
sigh Somewhere has to be home. In some ways, I feel like I am looking for home on so many levels. Where will I land?
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