so…yeah, let’s see.
Ginny cooked/baked for me. It was awesome, I will follow up on all of this but I just wanted to put something into ink to remind me about this weekend.
It was a…it gets to that line where I can’t write about it on the site because I don’t want this published online and she doesn’t either.
Anyway, saints shit the bed. They didn’t even pretend to try to win…I shouldn’t feel too bad, I wanted them to win, I cheered, we cheered…and sad.
Whatever, it doesn’t really “relate to me” as a person or a business but it actually does. As a business, any publicity, even tho we don’t even want or should even allow but just…fuck, i don’t even know. Fucking covid is killing everyone, our tourism based city is dying.
She reads this site occasionally but it’s terrible to say that I almost just want to abandon life if she leaves me. It’s never good advice to say things like that to someone, no one should ever be “the reason” and she isn’t, I have a lot of “strengths” here but the weaknesses are burning into my head.
Whatever. Everything that happened was nice. Everything after the last mardi gras, nightmare mode. Also, you’ll notice on the date of this post, we haven’t had the presidential inauguration riot that’s coming up on this wednesday.
I have a lot of real intense emotional experiences with Ginny, which will obviously be a real to slit my wrists if she breaks my heart, but I told her we need to spend the night Biden goes in together because I want someone to reload while I shoot.
This is chapter 2 of the end. I’m going to start stockpiling canned foods. Ginny seems still very fond of me, I can see her eyes when I think about her but she maybe probably hates me too…whatever.