** My heart starts aching
My hands keep shaking
And you know, you know, you know
* It would take a strong, strong man
To ever let you go (to ever let you go)
To ever let you go
~ "It Would Take a Strong, Strong Man" by Rick Astley
I am printing a disclaimer on this post. Normally this is not required – but today – well, it is. The following may contain – strike that – will definitely contain – brutal truths that could be construed as less than PC or conducive to perpetuating existing friendships. If you read it and get your panties in a bunch due to what I write – well, that is unfortunate. The truth sets us free, bitches!
To start off, I received a text from Kickboxer last night. It said, "How is Nebraska?" Seriously? How is Nebraska? Not, "hey, sorry about that whole apple juice and emotional attachment misunderstanding. Sorry that I broke the rules then bailed because you didn't respond with love and adoration." Just "How is Nebraska?" So I responded with, "Cold and rainy" – then I followed it up with "You abandoned me in Fort Worth never to talk to me again. Why do you care about the weather here?" No response. Guess he really didn't care about the weather.
For those who don't know the Kickboxer story – you're missing out on some hilarity and drama and an ending of which legends are made. I did what I could. I tried to feel something for him. Anything beyond the all-consuming lust that only a 23 year old professional MMA fighter can create. But it wouldn't happen. I could not develop one real emotion for the kid. Definitely not sorry it's over – but do wish it would have been a little more FINAL; as in him not texting me yesterday.
Now, a quick moment on my favourite topic, "pie crust promises". Easily made – easily broken. I do my best not to make them or break them. Inevitably, I will continue to fail at this. It may be a mistake – but bloody hell – can't you see that you're worth the risk of making a mistake of that magnitude? Still, the pie crust is intact!
Moving on – for those of you who can only have emotional conversations by quoting song lyrics – don't have the hypocrisy to berate me because you think I am hiding my emotions. Get over yourself. I am not angry or filled with hate – like you suspect – I am INDEED an emotional void. I truly just don't care. Guess what? . . . It didn't work for lots of reasons, NOT just because I do not have the capacity to feel. I tried to feel. And you sucked the bloody life out of me – good fun. Glad we're still friends. Let's have lunch.
Oh and in case none of that made sense to you, here is the message again, in lyrical form (courtesy of Papa Roach).
"I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut
My weakness is that I care too much
Our scars remind us that the past is real
I tear my heart open just to feel
I tried to help you once
Against my own advice
I saw you goin' down
But you never realized
That your drowning in the water
So I offered you my hand
Compassion's in my nature
Tonight is our last stand
I'm drunk and I'm feeling down
and I just wanna be alone
You shouldn't ever come around
Why don't you just go home?
Cause your drowning in the water
and I tried to grab your hand
and I left my heart open
but you didn't understand
but you didn't understand
GO. FIX. YOURSELF.
I can't help you fix yourself
But at least I can say I tried
I'm sorry but I gotta move on with my own life"
That's all I have to say about that.
p.s. If you wanted funny today – here you go. . . a very short story – just for you.
Once upon a time, an imprisoned princess sent a series of desperate letters to her fiancee, the handsome and brave, Prince Phillipe. Below is a sampling of correspondence, which clearly illustrates their love and devotion.
Dear Princie Poo,
I am still locked in the bloody castle of your second-cousin's step-brother's best-friend. You claim to have been looking for me; but apparently you have yet to locate the return-address on the envelopes of the letters I have been sending you. In addition, I have included maps and a guide on several occasions. I cannot, for the life of me imagine what could be taking you so long. While I confess my confusion at the situation, I'd also like to address a few other issues. First, how in the world did your second-cousin's step-brother's best-friend happen to know that I would be on my way, without guard, to meet you at our secluded love spot at precisely 1:17pm in the afternoon on a Tuesday? Does he have psychic powers I am not yet aware of? I mean, he knew exactly when to jump out of the tall Oak and ambush me. Had I been half a second late, he'd have landed on the ground. Second, why haven't you paid the ransom? I provided you with my account information, as well as a hefty line of credit from "Ye Olde Tyme Bank and Trust". It is important that you pay the ransom soon, before he changes his mind and just throws me into the alligator infested moat. Lastly, and most importantly, do you know why my kind, thin, and beautiful little sister has not yet sent me a letter, inquiring about my health? I know that you have been a good friend to her in the past. Please, verify that she is healthy and safe. I would hate to find out that she has been kidnapped as well.
I suppose I should close this letter, as the candle is almost completely melted and it is very dark, here in the dungeon. Please send your forces soon so we can be together again.
Princess Winifreida xoxo
p.s. I am writing this in blood, since I ran out of ink several days back.
After several weeks, imprisoned in the dungeon, the princess received a response to her desperate pleas. With much anticipation, she ripped open the envelope and began to read.
To My Sister, Winnie,
I am sorry it has taken me so long to write you. I have been away on my honeymoon. Princie Poo sends his regards. Give our love to the alligators. Thanks for all the letters.Kiss Kiss,
p.s. Please don't send any more letters written in blood. The last one made the dogs act all crazy-like.