Where we'll plan our escape
Did I really title an entry with the song from A Night at the Roxbury? And it was an entry for my top? Are you sure? Weird.
Also, note to self: I miss being part of a team that included a psychic advisor.
To be honest, I only gave it a quick, dyslexic, once over. There was just so much cringe. If it were on paper, and had managed to last this long, I'd definitely light it on fire today. Seven years, all new cells, right? Whatever hasn't materialized in seven years, it's well past time to strike the match and start over.
Well no, that's a fib, I have promised one of my vanillas that I will stop burning my journals. They're all hers when I leave this realm, bahaha- wish her luck.
Note to Self: burn your punishment journals, it's a small fib & for the best.
Double fib, I wouldn't burn the entry. He said He loved it. The butterflies would blow out the match if I tried.
But who even wrote that?
Not me.
I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you
Wait, no, that's not the right song.
All seven and we'll watch them fall, they stand in the way of love and we will smoke them all.
When I feel like my writing is a bit too emo and silly, I remember Prince wrote 7.
Seven. Today marks seven years. You've heard this story before, I was bouncing on a massage table, House of Pain was pumping. If you've got the feeling, jump up on the ceiling....jump up, jump up and get down. I have no particular fondness for House of Pain, but my floggers, Dreamer and Dancer, were popping and stroking the back and ass of this cutie dressed up like Harley Quin. There I was, at the very tip of the top of the world.
It could have been a polka, I'd have been dancing.
And I wouldn't have cared if you watched.
Did I ever mention I wasn't going to text him that night? I wasn't going to text him anymore, full stop. Or at least that's what I kept telling myself. Our playful texts were so much fun, but our paths weren't (and continue now) to be nowhere near each other's. It didn't have a future. Simultaneously, my real life, the one I had invested nearly 2 decades in, was catching on fire. I kept thinking the right thing was to try to put it out. All the elements were there. Everything I had ever wanted, kind of, mostly, close enough. Who cares? I was flogging Harley Quin, and I could have stomped out the fire, again.
There was this boy in a suit, I met him once before at another Gemini event. The similarities were striking, and he was watching me. I'd bet that last cigarette; they have kinship or time travel was involved. It seemed like a sign, so I texted Him and told Him to ask me again.
With my 20/20 hindsight, maybe I would negotiate more thoughtfully. Like for an actual collar. How does that muggle recipe go? Get the diamond before investing in a cow? I'd definitely have him sketch out clearly, in ink, how he plans to control the Os he asked me to relinquish. Then again, how far would any of that get me? My attention span is far too short to think I can out stubborn a Taurus. Besides, on every timeline throughout the multiverse, I wish to be his and I trust Fate to sort out the details.
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