Little Bobby

Little Bobby got screwed again. Another item gets returned to whence it came. She says that it can be added to the "wish list"; as in, when the Sun burns out and the Earth is a charred cinder. And there is only that particular "one" that will do. Well, Little Bobby has decided to put a little away and get it then. And, Little Bobby doesn't give a shit.

Let us not forget how stupid, selfish, inconsiderate and petty Little Bobby is. Nothing that is done is good enough or done right. Little Bobby's head is full of stress to the point that it boils over like a kettle left to heat for far too long. No relief in sight and no help from the outside.

True love sits on the precipice of oblivion. Is there such a thing as true love? Possibly, but it is clear that Little Bobby is undeserving. Love from friends? Little Bobby is not permitted to have any. Love from family? Alas, the fear of it being ripped away.

What cruel fate is it that makes the simple so complicated. The feeble minded seem so brazen in their opinions. The soul is stained black with all the circumspection.

Let me sleep a long sleep. Let me dream of better days. Let me enter the next life secure in the knowledge that, in this life, I tried.