Do not read if you have an aversion to adult writing and blasphemous situations.
My goal for the day wasn’t to ensure a one-way ticket into hell, but I am driving the crazy train into the heat by the end of the day. Today was my first time back to the church in years. I will admit that God and I don’t see eye to eye on many things, but I thought it was time to make up. Forgive those who trespass or something like that. Well, that’s what I saw on a billboard while driving down the freeway. Maybe it wasn’t even the saying, but the Priest was hot in that picture. Perhaps that was put there to bring in the sinners and save their souls from everlasting hell. Either way, he was attractive, and here I am stepping back into the place I swore I would never enter into again.
The first step into the park, they walked on the same grounds as their ancestors before they had. With Jimmy in the led, the others followed, but mad it known, Jimmy was only there for one reason. To bait that bastard out and get to those kids out of their alive. If only he would have kicked those brats out earlier, Jimmy could be home and enjoying sitting in front of his television.
With college only a month away, there was one thing on this list that I hadn’t accomplished yet. Backtracking for a second, I made a list on graduation day of things I would achieve over the summer. All of them had done, but one. I was 18, attractive, and a virgin. Probably the last one on earth. I grew up in an ultra-conservative home. I am a firm believer that my parents fucked once, and that was when they conceived me.
I flipped the tv on, the same thing nightly routine that I’ve done since that age of 5. Every man I’ve ever dated called my fear of the dark irrational. I agree, but then again, I don’t care what they think. When you’ve been through my hell, you can complain. Until then, shut the hell up.
As a child, I would spend hours picking flowers and ripping the petals off, saying, “He loves me. He loves me not.” Each time it ended in not, my mood would sour, and the stem would crash to the ground with lost hope. It took me years to realize that the only love I ever truly needed was the love I have for myself. Stop killing flowers for love. Let them bloom. If you have patience, you will have a garden of love to share with the world around you.