Neither of our faults. Her compatablity problem with ME wasn't HER problem, so I blame me more. That being SAID, when I went to Long Beach with her, some dude drowned. I'd never even heard of Long Beach Washington until that day, and now people drown there all the time. Frankly it was the best day of my life, but the worst day for the city of Longbeach.
In this rare moment of sobriety, I wonder how much I fucked up her life. And I don't feel like she was a complete asshole. I feel like I am a complete asshole.
And I know she didn't love me, and it was a total sham. But still, I treated her like shit, and I did/do love her.
And Captain Kangaroo is dead.
Happy fucking January 23rd. We're all going to be depressed, but we'll eventually be dead. So when that happens we can all celebrate, and a great weight will be lifted from our chests.