Writing can be harsh with a broken heart.

Self motivation is what keeps me going, self motivation to punch through whatever is slowing me down, selfm otivation to prove that I can knock something out each and everyday, even if it’s just adding a little bit more to the part I’m working on. It’s tough, harsh, and unbelievably hard to pull off, but somehow each day, with a cup of joe and a blaring playlist of Happy Hardcore music, i’m able to get both a little ifction written, as well as a blog post about whatever the fuck I’m feeling at the moment.

And at the moment? i’m feeling great… Not really. I’m stuck in a quagmire of slow thoughts turned exhaustion, I write about being tired, I become tired, bored, and start to yawn, and there goes the day.

I’m punching through this as much as i possibly can, because how else am I going to get through writing. To me, at least, the worst enemy you can have is yourself. Because, as you know, your own brain is actively working against you every step of the way, trying to slow you down, trying to make you sluggish in whatever you try to accomplish, and right now, my brain is slowly but sure tryng to keep me from accomplishing my goals. Which can be an incredib;ly frustrating feeling.

Especially when you’ve got a book of blogs and other things to knock out which I will. I’m tired of not working on that thing, I’m tired of not pulling though on the one thing that’s been haunting me for such a long time. And yes, It is a very dull, boring, and exrutiating process, and I sometimes think I won’t be able to stand on my own two feet, but god fucking damn it, I need to make this happen, I don’t want to be stuck at my parents house forever, and it’s incredibly draining on my self confidence, because I’m feeling up then down, and it fucks with you, it truly does screw with your head.

I know I can get through this massive headache, i know that it’s just a matter of time before something launches me forward in life, and I NEED to start writing about what’s going through my mind instead of just dancing around the topic like I’m afraid of what the consequences are going to be. Yeah, posting on Facebook can be lethal because of FB politics, but at least here? Here, oi can roar to the mountains and back about whatever the fuck is own my mind and try my damndest to get through the day.

Motivation is key in anything we do, and it’s only those moment where we falter that we’re truly happy for what we’ve accomplished with our lives. I need that happiness more than ever right now! not that i’m complaining, well, fuck it, I am, I’m not going to sit idly by and let others just roar whatever the fucks going on in THEIR lives and cast me into the fucking flames of perdition to whomever the fuck they want and i’m just stuck here like I’m useless and powerless to say whatever the fuck I need to to get through the dya, I need to vent, I need to destress, and right now?

donald Motherfucking Trump is a cuckolded dumpster fire on wheels, that shit stained motherfucker is screwing everything up and NO I don’t need to post specifics, because why the fuck would I do something incredibly boring as point out hte fucking prom baby abortion he has been to our allies and enemies! I Donald trump is the kind of guy that would fuck his own daughter than separate her from the family, just so no one can claim incest.

donald trumps a fucking traitor to this country, I don’t give two fucking shits what you think or feel, the mother fucker is treasonous and we all know, the Republican party just won’t admit to shitting on the floor because they know that the moment they do, the fucking moment they DO, that their chances of getting another Republican in office just slimmed down faster than a starving kid in the fashion industry.

fuck you, you know that shits real, and that’s why it’s so god damned dark.

Donald trump is the abortion the country needs to happen. Let me rephrase that, the country needs to have an abortion and remove this fat, orange, tantrum throwing, pants shitting, face rash having shit bag forcibly removed from office as fast as fucking possible!

And no, I’ve stated this in the past, if the fucktard hadn’t been in bed with Putin, and he’d run an honest campaign, and hadn’t shit all over himself on Twitter, then maybe MAYBE THE 80% OF THE COUNTRY WOULDN’T BE PISSED OFF!

Where art thou?

Love ends, the search begins, and a memory of a sexy Code Girl rises.

Don’t let the picture fool you, I’m now single.

there’s a slightly heartbreaking sentence.

The failing of a relationship to hold together, merely on the basis of the man’s inability to get the woman pregnant. mind you, said woman is not legally divorced, and is only legally separated.

Oh, and she had just turned 30.
So, I’m guessing, THAT’S a valid reason to break up with someone?
We weren’t trying for kids, we had talked about the possibility of kids AFTER we had gotten married, only getting married AFTER she had finalized the divorce.
Maybe she’s just looking for another baby daddy?
Yeah, I’m guessing that’s it.
Because she straight up told me that she’s passed the point of recovery and is moving forward.
Well, I’m happy to hear that, good for you!
REALLY.
Good… For YOU.
Because let’s face it folks, when a relationship ends, there’s only one real way to deal with everything, and NO… you sick little fuckers, it’s not to buy the original Kermit T. Frog puppet on Ebay and have live streamed fuck session with it, because THAT’S not what I did.
Nope, I just sat there, stonefaced, like a boss, cut to the point, when she tried repeating old arguments, I cut her off, stating plainly that we’d already talked about that. And she tried FB shaming ME.
I’ll give you a minute to laugh, because I’m laughing as well, in fact I haven’t stopped laughing about her attempt at controlling the break up like it was a fucking press release, and I straight up told her as well, “Break ups aren’t like a clothing release, you have no control over that whole thing, and since you’ve already let me know what this meeting is already about, I’ve ALREADY got the emotional part out of the way.”

I was like motherfucking Obi Wan.
“I HAVE THE HIGH GROUND ASHLEY, IT’S FOOLISH! I LOVED YOU LIKE A WIFE, YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE, YOU WERE MEANT TO BRING BALANCE TO THE FORCE, NOT TIP IT OT THE DARK SIDE!”

Nope, not feeling bad, I ended the relationship, i’m owning it, not letting the little twerp take that shit away from me. Because you know what? After a month and a half of absofuckinglutely nothing? I felt nothng in return, I treated her in that short 20 minute conversation, as she treated me, and it felt WONDERFUL.

She tried making the tears, and I just continued looking her in the eyes, not a tear drop forming in my own. She knew what the hell she was doing when she sent that text, and I knew what the hell it meant, so I waited a full day before reacting, because if there’s one thing I REALLY hate? It’s being left in suspense.

I’m sorry, this ain’t “Dukes of Hazard”
“Looks like them Duke boys got a notice of potential break up from Daisy, wonder how they’ll get themselves out of this one? Stay tuned and find out!”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Fuck that bullshit. We were together for two years, and I learned a thing or two from her, always prep for the best, mehhest, and worst scenario, have things in place ahead of  time, and the let the fucking odminos fall where they may.

i’m thinking to myself the whole entire time, like, “don’t tear up, don’t tear up, don’t move, don’t react., don’t even blink. Don’t blink, you blink, and that’s when she’ll attack!” Like it’s an episode of Doctor Who and she’s a weeping angel, lmao.

i’m choosing to find the humor in this situation, because I can’t find anything to be mad aboooooout…. Yes, yes I can, one thing, always one thing. She was constantly late, she said she’d be there at a certain time, she’d never, EVER be there on time. Until the second year in the relationship, where she MAGICALLY got all the timing right.
Yay.

Small victories folks, small victories.
For some reason, she always hid me away in her room, like she didn’t want me talking to her folks, like she had already known that ANY man she’d met on Tinder was just a rebound dick, and should NEVER develop any kind of friendship with her friends or family.
bitch please, herding me is like herding twenty cats without any treats, my ass is all over the place, talking to every single person in the room if there’s something sparkly on them. Like, “Well, we’re going over there- SPARKLY THING PERSON IS HOLDING, BRB ROFLCOPTER!”

There were a bunch of things she did, small things, annoying things, things that stayed under the radar because A, those small things happened behind the smoke screen of, “It’s okay, I’ll be patient, because at the moment, I love, respect, and want to make sure she’s amazingly happy. Plus, I fuck like a mother fucking BEAST, and she ain’t NEVER finding dick like me ever again should she leave me.”

Words to live by folks, words to fucking live by. And I get it, people grow apart over time, things change, and sometimes a breakup needs to happen for those people to find their true happiness, and in the end, despite all the jokes, because at the end of the day, despite what looks like a massive, dickishly mean, asshole take down of this woman?

We were perfect together. We completed each other in so many different ways that we both honestly believed early on that it could’ve led to marriage. She laughed at nearly every joke I made, and I laughed at every joke she made, even if I didn’t connect with it. I loved her, as one would love the air in their lungs.

I loved her, her daughter, her family, her brother, and I connected well with her friends and extended family. I feel no guilt over how things ended, for a while, I understood completely, she supported me during my time in Great Lakes, sending me perfume scented letters and pictures, letters, pictures, gifts which I still keep to this day, granted, she returned the picture I made for her, bitch move Ashley, total bitch move, but, I understand the motivation for it.

We had both been thinking of ending the relationship, I just got to the finish line first. there was no breakup sex, she could’ve been offering, but I had my laptop with me, getting some work done, and I just didn’t feel like spending four minutes packing up after only being there for an hour or so.

It’s… it’s for the best, right? She’ll find someone, I’ll find someone, and those few precious memories not captured on picture or video will slowly fade away, as… as they were mean’t to.

It’s been a few weeks, and I can’t even remember what her voice properly sounds like, so… Progress, I guess?

Before we met up in person, there was another woman, just one singular meeting, mostly nonverbal. A Kirsten, Chirsten, Kristen, Christien… She was absolutely astounding, she was Caucasian, around five foot six inches, maybe taller, brown hair, cut short, buzzed on the sides, made into a small pony tail, eyes that you could REALLY fall into.
She was programming an A.I. for a hospital, she worked in the I.T. department, I think. She was wearing a white tank top, might’ve been either a C or B cup, nice body, beautiful voice, I wanted to kiss her right then and there.
I’ve always had a thing for women with tattoos, as there’s always a story behind every one, even if it was just someone liking the design.
We talked intermittently as we both worked, striking up a conversation only when we had finished the majority of our work, though, secretly, I think she might’ve been one Kim A.K.
But, that’s just a theory, a identity theory! Thanks for watching!

Kirsten sent me a text one night after Ashley and I had finished making love, she asked who that was, and i told her all about Kirsten, and she was pretty cool about it. In the text, Kirsten asked what I was up to, or if we wanted to meet up, and I apologized, that during the time we had last seen each other, I had found someone else, and that we had been going out for a few weeks. She asked for a picture, so I sent one of Ashley and I at the park during one of the days I was trying to study for the ASVAB.

I wished her much happiness in her search for the perfect guy, and she wished us much happiness and a long and healthy relationship, and outside of a few times where I sent her a ‘How’s it going?” text, I hadn’t heard back from her.

My only question for her at the moment is this:

“Where art thou?”

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