Board games, anyone?
But besides the jubilation that comes with finding the
diagnosis for that which, rightly or wrongly, defines life
as I have come to know it, I still sit in a giant pit of
emptiness. And I can't make heads or tails of the top or
bottom anymore. I'm just scattered all about in this void.
And the thing of it is, if I actually paid more attention
to my surroundings and used that lump of dust where my
brain once stood, only then would I truely grasp the sheer
enormity of the void and the far reaches my scattered self
have spread to. And even though it shouldn't, it really
bothers me that my beloved engages in constant
correspondence with some lousy, buck-toothed musician from
the United Kingdom. I too enjoy conversing about such
things as the foremost and more better punk rock acts of
yester-year! I really do. But, then again, my mind is dull
and lacks the zing that is typically reserved for
rock "stars" and noted sex offenders.
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