Something about this time makes the truth serum seem like a placebo.
I am going to be honest with myself right here right now.
I want to first chastise myself for November and the dismal amount of writing, the quantity was trash if I can be honest and did not even scrap what my targets are.
I also hear what I am saying when I say I don't have anything to write about it. But the excuse is not good enough, the life lessons that smell like a challenge from a mile away must be recorded. The inability to see the lesson until weeks after must be recorded. The coping mechanism must be recorded.
I must be recorded - this is metaphorical you sick bastards, I don't want to be recorded by Big Brother, I want my life to be told by me.
Too many memories lost to mental health.
This is my shit and I have to hold myself accountable.
Pps. Alcohol and anger are not truth serums, people just spew anything for a reaction in those states. Some of you lose your shit over that fuckery for nothing.
Scheduled posting, hello you sexy thaaang.
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