I'm installing a metaphysical program in my head, inspired by a book I picked up in North Beach, San Francisco,last month, during PRIDE. The book is called "The Secret Lives of Puppets" and the concept of Psychotopographic art appeals as a sensory journey. Exploration of the deepest psyche, by using the applications that surround in the physical, the nature, the constructed, all reflect back unto you and can tell you more than you ever thought probable, or so I challenge! Such Illustrious writers as H.P. Lovecraft have used this technique to delve into the cerebral abyss. I'm not afraid. Take me down!
Only one week later and my empire is in shambles. J thought he would escape, because i had "pushed him away" and the open relationship "just wasn't him" Once we'd reached San Francisco, he booked a flight to L.A. and put distance between us for 24 hours. He was easy to catch again. I just fanned off my taste for drama and played it cool and sweet so he would return for the nectar. W, it turns out, had chosen a path wrought with deception. I'm no stranger to the game, though honesty has been my new raisone de' terre. With the sudden revelation of our affair, the not so unsuspecting girlfriend had W pinned to the spot and cunning him was able to bend it so that he could save his hyde and I remained shadowed. Though this technique spared as few heartaches as possible , it brought an axe down on us. What he saw as a slip up and a quick recover, I saw as a missed opportunity to expand the perameters of their relationship. This was the moment of truth for W and he slammed the door with my tail stuck in the crack.
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