Ttyl and Memory
Dear Friends, Family, and Strangers,
I am writing you a letter because I think it will be good for us.
You see, I share a lot of things. The way that I have it set up in my head is that there is a lot to be said. You don’t have to read any of it, but it is there. You don’t have to think it’s well-written or done in a way that you can understand. Some of it will probably trigger emotions you don’t appreciate, and there’s a good chance that you will think I just like to talk.
That is not the case. It never has been. Wake up. I write a lot, I post a lot, I think a lot, I share a lot. It has nothing to do with you, this verbal bloodletting, in fact, it’s kind of for you too, if you want it to be. If you are very very close to me by God’s design and blood, we probably literally never talk about what means a lot to me. That is okay, but don’t begrudge me my outlet. I’ll talk about whatever the hell you want, but don’t call it arguing (and if you’re reading this, I’m looking at you, mom ((trolllolollol if I was upset I wouldn’t actually share it though))).
This crap happens. It’s normal between people. If conflict resolution wasn’t necessary, I doubt any of us would be alive.
But shit happens. I still like to cuss. I’m coming to terms with that slowly but surely, and honestly, as long as I don’t spew it in person, I’m pretty okay to use pungent imagery and curse words as necessary, because they were only ever words. That is what I believe; thank God it doesn’t change half as much as some people think. If you really want Eat Pray Love I will do it one billion times better than Julia Roberts; she spends an entire segment of the movie talking about pizza. Please.
But yeah, I can take a joke, just expect my rebuttal to be long and drawn out into paragraphs. What the hell do you expect? Lol, that was always a thing, if it talks like a filter, walks like a filter, and acts like a filter, welp, I will be the first to write a novel on why it qualifies as a damn filter. Y’all can look at me like my filter is a verbal duck and just say so, I’ll shut up. You do anyways, and actually, it never made all that much of a difference.
Whatever such is life, and it’s better than Microsoft Word. The crappy little pop up Stapler friend from the 1997 version can stay digital, I’d much rather design a better stapler, and hopefully, one that is pink this time.
Whatever, I’ll chat you later, and just ask my study abroad homies, you can’t escape. If we’ve met your probably somewhere up there on storage, and I’ll hit refresh every so often because it gives me joy; you’ll probably know because you’ll receive some sort of message. If not, you’re still on the hard drive, it has enough space.