The end.

Well friends, as I sit here nursing a veeery large bottle of wine and pack of cigarettes, a line from Henry Rollins’ stand-up gig keeps running through my head:

Just walk away.

Now, I’m sure that was in relation to something else, but I have taken that line to heart, and have made it my mantra at times when it seems to be the only tact.

And I have done it tonight.

The score:

Current “relationship”: dead.
Me: alive.

Yes, folks, I thought I had it all figured out, but alas, dear whore-troll-bitch fate had other ideas for me. Alas, alone again am I, but the stronger for it, of course.

So, with that in mind, send me your chocolate, wine and Marlboro lights. And your love. And a strong, strapping single nubile Viking should you come across one: I’m in the market….

One thought on “The end.

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