x0x

It feels a little like August 16th.
Okay, I’m being overly-dramatic. It’s more like August 61st.

Don’t worry, if you don’t get it; neither do I (well, that’s a lie). You get it, too, and you know it.

There are these things called hints and not-so-subtle cues that we rely on to make sure we get our meaning across because, apparently, we’re all three-year-olds, and our words just aren’t sufficient. I don’t know how it got this way, but I’ve got a couple theories. Unfortunately, there’s no empirical test to confirm their veracity.

I’ve always given up on the wrong causes, chased down the wrong dreams, fought someone else’s war.

I’m done.