THIS ONE GOES OUT TO THE LADIES, awwwwww yeeeeeeeea peanut butter is back at it again. DOIN’ IT AND DOIN’ IT.

[TRIGGER WARNING – I GET REAL INTIMATE WITH THIS ONE BABY]

So lets start in the beginning: I was all butthurt about how I obsess and idealize women so much and then wrote my newest crush an angry poem at the time.(I’m thinking of turning it into a hazing ritual for all my placeholder-potential soulmates that I endlessly torture myself with the thought of). THE END.

Exactly 6 days previous to this letter I quit smoking and heard somewhere that writing angry letters to people and burning them was a good way of dealing with post quitting stress/anxiety and I guess I didn’t end up burning the dang thing.

OH HOW I LOVE PETITIONING YOUR DEFENCES MY SWEET! IF YOU’RE READING THIS; I GOT US A PUPPY AND, I LOVE YOU, AND YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, AND DONT EVER DOUBT YOURSELF BECAUSE YOU ARE THE GREATEST PERSON IN THIS ROMANTIC HEART THAT I STORE INSIDE MY EARTHLY BODY WHICH REALLY DOES ME NO GOOD AS I AM TAINTED–AND WITHOUT YOU–WORSE FOR THE WEAR AND TEAR OF THIS CRUEL WORLD. I STILL LOVE YOU ALL THESE YEARS LATER WITH NO REGRETS.

Gettin’ real dark here, but this poem is dark. I wanna die with love in my heart, there’s a pain to that. I wanted to tear out my heart for everyone I loved to make room for them in all the bruises and lit fuses. There’s a fire in me for some people and I like it, and love them, is that a problem? Idunno. If this letter gets to sender or if storks deliver babies or any of that, doesn’t really matter for the most part. At the moment I just hope that “milkman” is a relevant enough term… I mean seriously if you know what one is you’re a dinosaur(PS. DESTROYING THOSE TOILETS WAS WHAT I DID TO PAY THE HYDRO BILL BACK WHEN ROB FORD rip WAS PRESIDENT OF TORONTO).