some asshole has rigged my shit so when i post i have to log back in and rewrite my stuff. just wrote a beautiful post but now fukin pissed so i'll giv the skinny, go in open every set, target is the hardworking gorgeous bartender open spike dhv esp just chill my inner game is radiant i trust myself enough that i don't need to move, opportunities simply present themselves end of nite cute bartender write schedule on napkin wth phone i'm drunk walk out poacher says let me see that i raise hand he grabs it. this tan jacket wearing douche has been hanging on my words all night, grabs my number i fuckin earn with schedule/ love letter from bartender and drives off. i'm drunk forget about it and walk off meet two guys at 7eleven , sry dude great talk but if making others happy makes you happy then go out and make some one laugh, giggle, or cry in joy. you don't have to change the world but imagine if you made someone laugh for a second they might change their mind about killing themselves you get it. a butterfly flaps its it's wings in a different direction and 700 hundred people don't die. what a relief, now some one has to come up with healthcare on how to save all the 700 broke old extra people that lived, great job ASShole, now we've got to worry about 700 hundred hungry old people that you saved from suicide by making them laugh with a tiny joke, question , did you really save anyone or just prolong a shitty and unenjoyable life, if you want to make someone happy have em write goals then see that they achieve those goals. after ask are they any happier(if they tell you fuck off i'd listen), if no then realign perceptions and find the root of their unhappiness and set goals that will help them, if yes fuckin a man you have now achieved your own goal and are closer to your own self enlighten ment. im just wondering how my said target will take it that i lost her love letter to some douche in a tan jacket and why she's getting phone calls from some guy who sounds nothing like me claiming to be me telling her to meet him in the middle of the desert with ten pounds of cocoa butter a hockey puck and a bag of extra large tennis balls. who the fuk knows man, life is journey and though we weave and intertwine together we all must travel our own path. ciao

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impossible is nothing