Those Kinda Boys.

I got mugged on Monday night, but I am trying to forget about it. It's a long horrible story that ends with me puking at anAmerican's house for the second time.

So yesterday came the second tattoo right across my chest. I laid out on the comfy table they offer at Twister Tattoos, Piercings, Hair Styles, and more, and braced myself for what became the most painful thing I have ever experienced. It was amazing. :)

The worst is the brest bone. Your whole chest vibrates with pain shooting through you like you are being stabbed several times in a spot already irritated. It was truly spiritual.

BytheBy, theKiller wrote back. After I bitched, yelled, and got upset... but he still wrote back.

Men have this way of murdering the women they love with the slightest gesture. No paying attention, not saying exactly what you wanted to hear, not writing you back after you pour out your heart into a very well crafted email. Then, they redeem themselves with the smallest action. Like writing back a short story sized email that lifts a spirit to the rafters with four small words... (not the ones a person might classically think of. You cannot guess these words and mydearAmerica I'm not telling!)

I'm slain. Once again I have fallen and wish never to get up. Currently, I am convinced that I love to be conflicted with these feelings because it fuels that creative spark eventhough it hurts too much for words.

You bastard! How I hate the fact that my heart continues to rot for you!! Eh...

Enough. I'm done.

p.s. Tell me who you are. You know who I am talking about!