I don’t have time to be sitting here, a cold cup of congealing—don’t ask—coffee to my right, a blank word document in front of me and a mess of crumpled paper all around me. Yet here I am, unsure of where to start, what to say and how to say it.
Either I come off as too aggressive, overly romantic or passive. I’m struggling to find a happy medium here and and that bitch is nowhere to be found as I draw a blank. A big, aggressive-overly romantic-passive blank.
Dammit.
There’s a very real chance that your opinion of me will be skewed by the time you read this, but I have to at least try to counterbalance the bullshit that you’re bound to see on the show with my version of events. The truth about me, him, her, them and everything else. This is the real story.
My story.
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