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It's All Good...Everything was Free.

I'm thirty-years old, and I'm early-morning pissing in a Happy Birthday cup, in my kid brother's living room. His bitch already told me to stop using her lights, during the day; but, I can't stop the mishappenings of my crippled, but laughable existence. (I'll probably cry, if I ever get this f-ing blog posted!)
It's continuously a mary-go-'round navigating this course of a dream, in which I've led myself. Yes, woo is me, and at this point it must be acceptable to realize the victor and the villain, in my life. I won't badger, or blister my head (literally) over its lack of foresight or connection to any truths, including the ones manifested in a younger, more impressionable me. In fact, this is still very much part of my motive and facets. I can, will, and have delivered what I am, as it becomes real to me. That's a type of freedom.
So, I'm thirty, and I'm probably about a quarter of the man I portray. I think to/in/for power, but I'm hanging by my bootstraps and I'm secretly being controlled. By my sex partner, my family, my circumstances, my past, by authority & forces-that-be, and the creator of it all. (Is that me, or Jesus' father?). In any case, I know no different. I'm just a product of my raising, and the challenge has always seemed to be within...so, here I flow.

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