So, for all intents and purposes, I’m a writer. I also have bipolar disorder and can’t seem to get out of this depression. Well, an old friend decided to look me up a few month ago. He, too, had decided writing was his passion. We talked endlessly about the subject and even talked of writing a book together. Our conversations inspired me to write. Then just as quickly as he’d shown up, he disappeared. Said he was having relationship issues and his girlfriend was jealous of the two of us having so much in common and made him sever all ties with me. No big deal. I can write a book by myself. I did miss our conversations.
Well, just a few days ago, he contacted me again. He actually came to my house! We had a 20 minute conversation, I loaned him about $200 worth of books that if I don’t get back within the next 24 hours, there just might be bloodshed. You see, the reason he only stayed 20 minutes was because he realized I wasn’t going to put out, and he went elsewhere. So, all the talk of joining an art class, writing a book together, intellectual conversations? FAKE. I have too many issues he said to a friend of mine. Well, I made him aware of all of my issues long before he came to my house. I guess they’re just not believable unless you get a firsthand look at them. Glad I could perform some type of entertainment for you, asshole.