I would like to think if anyone ever were to write the story of my life it would be me...or atleast the guy who wrote Obama's autobiography. Well, if The Bell Jar could have been written by a man it would be called The End of the Road--and it's not exactly a happy tale. Apparently this is where I should stop writing because it's about to get very personal--and probably random and vague.
I have a rule about making life decisions. If I am swimming in a sea of confusion I do not make any choices. I just freeze all decisions of all magnitude except for the ones that are immediate for day-to-day living. However, let's just postulate that this mantra is not always effective. I once wanted to break up with someone and I decided to wait until after the holidays...and now look at me, divorced seven years later. Was it the right decision? Was it a calculated decision? Would my life look like it does now with allowing the more dangerous and careless aspect of my personality do a little bit of driving? I'm really not sure. I know that I am happy. I know that the dangerous place in my mind that acts without thinking does not take any crap from anyone. I know that I am not going to deal with being treated poorly--maybe it is the solution.
Also does anyone think I only posted a post about dirt roads to make a little bit of space between two posts? I'm sure it does not look like that, right?
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