My boyfriend has small ears


By Emmanuel J. Derecho

Well, I don’t think about my life, I don’t think about my goals and most certainly I don’t think how this post will go.

This man doesn’t want to introduce himself, while drinking a cup of red delicious wine. (Thinks deeply).

Let me ask you a question. Not many people wil probably be able to relate, when that libation flows through the canal of your throat to your stomach and then you notice time slows down. When you feel like Superman. In that moment, can you tell the difference between how invincible you are in comparison to how you really are?

Ok, I don’t like where this is going. It doesn’t feel good, all I can think about is what is good? Why must I think like this? I compare myself constantly to images of people in my head that has said this before and I use these as benchmarks to what is good or bad, right or wrong. I always tell myself “does it make sense?” what is my problem?

There’s a lot of question marks, I’m I always afraid if I’m going crazy. I sought for someone to tell me Im not, but even if they do it’s only ever temporary  relief.

I’m a living addiction. In my case, sex is my crutch. I’m a perspective addict, being obscene is comical. Insecurity is capitulating, I feel bad saying this sentence because I use “capitulating” too much. I am not special and probably will never be, I am a disarray of  momentary expressions  just like a poorly played game of tetras if every block represented a thought.

I’ve been wanting to say F*&^ this whole pointless post. Is anybody else obsessed with intelligence or maybe that is my case of ‘small man syndrome’.

p.s. I’m insecure about my feet size. I hope you chuckled and if you did please let’s confabulate and embark on a conquest together, for some sort of human connection.

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