Nine weeks and I'm gone, if only for a year...I will still be gone. Living while I still am able, doing whatever the fuck I want simply because I can. Hesitations and concerns out the window and going. That is what my life has always boiled down to, fuck it I'm going. And then I am gone, just like I always say I will, I do.
I am my own person, I don't need a companion or something to occupy the other side of the bed to feel whole. Traveling is that thing for me, yes having someone I love by my side doesn't hurt...But I have moved so many times it makes no difference, once I have the itch I always scratch it.
That is where we differ, I don't talk a good game without following through. I wasn't raised as a shape shifting, dick sucking chameleon. Throat deep in the hobbies of a boy, have you noticed they change with each dick? You are not your own person, you bask in the sadness of each heartache for far too long, as a form of security...with every heartbreak you discover a new identity. You are a sad and lost soul.
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