Our word of the day, boys and girls, is FUCKED.

As in, I am FUCKED. Why? Because it's not like I want to remember, to recall, to think anymore of the good times. No, but they are unerasable...

The fact I cannot bring my brain to totally erase the memories tells me I am very weak indeed.

And I don't bring them up willingly, of course not! But it's the little things that remind me, though sometimes they aren't so subtle:

a role play character by a frend of named named ***!!! As an FYI, her name will be censored.

A song by Basshunter called Boten ****! An extra letter, yes, but no less appropriate.

These aret he things that turn my stomach into mush and make me want to break down! But instead I am angered that these simple reminders bring such emotional turmoil to my soul!

This needs to stop! My cure?
Blue October and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Yes, together? Red October Hot Blue Chili Peppers. Mhmm, that is the name of my heart-ache cure!.

I should just come out and say aloud my malice and scream her nae at the top of my lungs. A lot of people would say I had that right. But no, the real reason this is taking its toll on me?

It was a very bad time. I was already on thin ice with other friends, I was still getting over my abandonment by the mother of my son--who, by the way, never got to breathe the breath of life-, no, it was a very bad time. Very bad indeed. We also settled on very bad terms, very bad. I wish it never happened, but it did, and there's really nothing I can do about it now except try and release the emotions that so irrational jumble inside my mind.

As an aside---