Wednesday, February 25, 2009

The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past makes my wallet cry in shame


It came with a bang. A nightmare. He wasn't the type of person who occasionally befell the spell of a nightmare, tossing and turning, waking up in cold sweats- he loved sleep too much to subject his subconscious to that.

But then it happened. All the pathetic fears and anxieties, the worries that all the potential and hope would never come to be realized, that everything he thought he was capable of accomplishing would just up and vanish. Not because of some accident. Or bad luck. But of his own doing. His own willingness to let the drive subside. To just flutter away into banal obscurity. He couldn't let it happen, wouldn't let it happen, gotta fight, scrape, struggle, realize it and...



"Now imagine she's white." He wakes up and it's still there, the fire, the passion, the...



Oops. Well, at least he looked sexy doing it. j.k. livin y'all.

And scene (Cue shame).

0 painful displays of affection:

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