Chronicle 076 ~B There An Age~

I haven’t forgotten the tattoo I want to get for Braxton and the different acronyms “EHC,” “JSS.” Since yesterday all I’ve been thinking is “FML,” only it’s never been my life, has it? My life, and so what chance did I have of saving B III’s? B There An Age

Wednesday, September 15, 2021

Chronicle 076 ~B There An Age~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but will there be an age I know no FEAR, HATE, or STUPIDITY. Fuck My Life.

Fuck, Mother Fucked, Fuckery! You’ll have to pardon my language Echo. Only who am I to tell you anything? God, I’ve been thirty-seven for over a week now, and I still go crying to my “father” for everything. In all honesty, as the song goes, “I feel stupid,” you know. Inspector, it would be one thing if it were only him, and how old is the ASM at the Day Job? Oh, I go running to the young as well. Hell, I wonder, will today be as humiliating as yesterday. Ten years of my existence wasted with a company, and I still don’t know shit. Will I be as worthless as I was yesterday “relying” on one of my much younger coworkers? Fuck My Life.

My motto, a mantra, the mold God broke. So he’d know never to make “me” this mistake again. I don’t even believe in God… well, not since B. How many years was it that I sat outside with him? Day One, and said that we had to look after one another. It was only us. Last night, this morning, was the most terrified I’ve been in quite a while. It’s taking everything within me to not curl up in the fetal position and lie here for the rest of the day. I should call out of the Day Job. No offense to you, Echo, but I should be doing more. What, hiding my entire life? You know that vomiting feeling I’ve had since last Friday?

Life retching out of me. That’s what I want. Today is the first day ever that I’m a bit glad that B III isn’t here to see what has become of his Dad. Now that right there is the sickest, vilest, cruelest thought I have ever had. I couldn’t protect Braxton. I can’t save myself. Hell, by the grace of God, I have been ferried through the night. If I see this day’s end and everything is “normal.” How I hate that word. What would “normal” be in this day and age? At this rate, I would give anything to go back to exactly where I was around this time. Asleep, dead to the world. Because today, Inspector, Fuck My Life. B There An Age
227 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

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