If there is undeniability in the understatements of existence, then I want them here to comfort me in my time of dying. If there's trouble to torment my dearly lost soul, then I take it on and stand amongst the ruined lies of long lost dreams to take hold of the pheonix of rising ashes. Can I stand to be alone in the mystic avenues of my brain for another minute of completion?
I can't begin to exculpate myself from the ruins of my lifelost life any longer.
Banker and I had a fight today. A big one. He's tired, and I'm tired. We're both just tired. I don't really care about the lie that is our life anymore, but he thinks I do. He blames himself for my problems, and then takes it out on me. I really don't blame him, but I won't let him ride on me for his own guilt all the time. I told him that, and he got pissy. It was unpleasant.
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