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Today I woke up with a cat in my shorts. Is Ragnar gay? Or do his balls grow too fast? Or is it the smell of blood? Is he a satanist? Many questions, but just a scratch on my dick left.

Talking about difficult relationships… why, WHY? Why this has to happen… what I do understand so far, during my last days of rehab and an earlier not a less shredding mind autopsy subsequent the open heart analysis, yes, there was lots of blood and pulling pinched glooming nerves in the last days, weeks, reigning, keeping the creepy drama queen inside of me in place, with her crooked neon lipstick, her scarred chest, her battered dick, her drunken escapism, her bitchy nihilism… I understand I love, I am able to love. Love doesn´t depend on someone else. If you are not able to love someone without receiving love, sex or hate, intimicy or at least a dick up your arse, what does love mean… finally, nothing but a deal of angst, to disappear between the fences of society. If you are not aware of receiving love without abusing the nakedness and heart-roots levels, and only to make yourself appear more attractive and desirable, to objectify love to embrace yourself, you don´t love, you try to free yourself but getting heavier trapped. And here it comes, my sunday gnosis, my drama queen is therefore to mask my shame, my nakedness, my vulnerability. I need drama to allow myself to be vulnerable, to intensify, to pull the nerves harder, to limit, to break myself being able to accept my wrongness, my fallibility, my humanity. And there is the collision, I don´t accept humanity as my intellectual and spiritual guidance. I was fighting against me, hurting deeply people I pretent to love, but basically I was not able not to love them. I was ashamed of having taken their love, overrating the concept of the order, the commandment of romance and hope. And it all starts with one drop of jaw, with amazement, with a feeling of a deep connection or you just have a boner… what does love means when you are not ready to love it, the invention, the idea to share your life, to be with someone, to be you and not a reflection, to fight against each other to siege the world, your mutual world. Love is therefore a negation. And I don´t love it. But I still love you, my love. What a mess.