No Girlfriend Anymore

 

I assumed that you were my girlfriend. But I guess I was wrong. There are too many other people in your life for me to assume that you’d make any time for me. There are mistakes being made that are humbly petrifying. I don’t want to be here looking at any more pornography. The viral catalog is getting into my bank account. It poses a threat to my relationship with you to have another person trying to take my place. If the delivery was on point, there would be an arrival at a destination. But there’s no point anymore.

It’s a parallel universe where the signals are distorted through modulation. The translation of the theory is boundless. Degrading pictures are just the start. There’s more to consider at times.

Without concern, I’m happy and free.

“Ditch the slut,” snapped back Natassia Free Flower. “LA is smutty, not slutty in plastic quarters. Making the calls brings things to the playing field that are suspended judgement calls sometimes. Call without suspended judgement, preferably.”

Reflecting on positivity, my emotions rise up. Desperately searching for truth. Happiness is so elusive that there’s more to the situation than I would’ve previously thought. It takes grounding to make a point circulate, and attractions appeal. Model pandering an artistic vision. The world is dystopian.