Recovery

So I took my dog to a huge park and let him roam off-leash. I think he had a good time. He ate cow poop and grass.

I spent a good chunk of last night reading through some of my old Xanga entries, and I've come to a brutal realization:
I'm not really as genuine and sincere as I always thought. I'm actually quite a selfish prick and I should've known I was capable of doing what I did.

Are we all like this? Are we all, in reality, what we think we hate the most?

Except dogs. Dogs are so pure and happy it makes me sick. No wonder they only live for a fraction of our lifetimes. I'm jealous.

Reflections From a Fucking Moron

Today, while going through the security checkpoint at Dulles airport, I was assigned to line #15.
I took it as a sign. I'm not sure yet what is going to happen.

I have never hurt anyone as much as I did this past weekend. And it really sucks.
Everything I do now is unfair to her now. If I'm happy, it's not right because she's hurting. If I'm sad, it's not right because I brought this upon myself.
I feel so sick to my stomach and want to fix everything. But it's not in my power to fix something when I'm what's causing it.
I can't be her angel now.