My Normal Life

I Wish Santa Got Ran Over.

I feel like the longer I continue on this path of liking you, I will just continue to fall further and further into this dark hole of emotional despair. I never even know if you have the slightest sprinkle of this information in that massive amount inside your mind that I feel this way. Other people know. I have no problem emptying out this load on them, yet I cannot walk up to you and spit out three simple words: I like you. I can have a normal conversation with you at times, I can even look into your baby blue eyes while I just to listen to you babble about another pointless topic. I cannot be drawn away from you.

I always get what I want and I never give up until I get it. Though, what I want, is making this hunt a lot more difficult. By being in a relationship with someone, that is the hardest I seem to be finding. I never seem to smile anymore. I know I have happiness somewhere. It’s all this hacking I constantly hear about the marriage and babies all around me. When I see a picture of the good things happening in your life, it seems to keep my happiness from even considering making a debut. I try to smile along, send you a sprinkle of joy, but sometimes I can’t. Sometimes I just want to shove you to the side so I can find my pillow and blanket just so I can hide away from the overload of delight trying to invade my life.

The one soul that I wish was here is not. Maybe I will find my connection with another that I have set intentions on. One that I may I haven’t seen yet. I may have, but I know how I can be; picky. I try not to be jealous of others. I know you were having as much problems as I am. But, like life, it all seem to come easy for you. You just searched one page, one night and bazinga! Thar she blew. Your knight in shining armor. Well, I tip my hat to you as I continue to flip page after page after page on my fourth site attempt.

This success just makes me want to think future divorce every time I see you. I try so very hard to shove these dank, dark secrets thoughts away from my cold, black soul. I love you too much to wish these sorrows upon you. My anguish does not need another’s home.

Santa was just not good to me this year. No job. No vacation. No Prince Charming. And he had to cause such sorrows to my mom. So, I thank you Chris Cringle for richening the rich yet pulling down the poor. Santa; thou art a butt munch.


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