Wednesday, February 13, 2019
Episode 227 ~B III Will Shatter~
Forgive Me Echo,
How To Make One Million Dollars; well women and children first, and I do mean saving lives. Because despite my reading and let’s save fascination with the female form I am not so corrupt or forgetful. So Happy Birthday to my son, my little boy B III.
With that noted, I’ve been fucking up (language please) but ask the man in the mirror. I brought up reading, and something that truly terrifies me. These people that leave their babies in the car and now have to know to put something “important” in the backseat. I confessed to “Indiana Gone,” I thought I left B III outside once. Of course, he was safe and sound inside but the fact I’m rushing into the backyard yelling for him. He’s my child, I love him more than pancakes, and there hasn’t been a moment he needed something I haven’t provided. Today though, I went to take our birthday picture, and my phone was screwy, and what the holy hell is wrong with me. I was ready to drive anywhere to repair it today. I bought a new case; I nearly had a heart attack taking off the former screen protectors.
Which leads me to sin number two, I wouldn’t have noticed. I take care of Triple B, I have dropped my phone, once in years, and we’ll get to women. What about me; I swear between being late for work, my teeth, and everything else I was on edge. This morning it felt like everything was tearing at the seams. I went through my whole motivational playlist trying to keep going. Asleep on my feet and if I was awake it was because I was mad as Hell. Now my mind’s brokenness isn’t anything new but watching my body fall apart, and I don’t care at all. Why, because I’m worried about my damn phone? Wanting a PS4, of course, B III earned fries, the movie I have yet to see, Happy Death Day 2U.
So now we have women that I continue to make the same mistakes perpetually. Yesterday I had hoped but whatever, and then, of course, there’s the restarting of my writing — fact vs. fiction and how it makes me feel. For example, “Lolita” was the most boring thing ever and I owe yet another review. My heart broke for Whitney Wright “Prom Night.” I read this “statement” from “Courtwithconfidence.” It’s sickening what she experienced but here’s the sin. A novel, a porno, a real-life horror story… I was hot and bothered. So that’s why I ask forgiveness today; I don’t care to save myself, that was my thought at the day job. I study people, but the thing about my son, he’s strong. I’m looking for a girl I suppose who has such innocence and yet such a fire inside her. Only here I am falling apart over a phone camera. If somehow I treated myself, everyone, and life to the concept B III Will Shatter.
I Will Have No Fear