And I'm not sure this is my final entry for the day, but…
I hate disappointments.
Here's the thing: if you never expect anything, you'll never be disappointed. Simple, right?
Don't expect. Don't hope. And guess what? Nothing happens. No hurt. No heartbreak.
But the moment you start expecting something—anything—you make yourself vulnerable. So incredibly vulnerable.
It's like setting yourself up to get shot. And trust me, they will shoot you.
And it will hurt.
That bullet? It'll slice right through your chest, sever your arteries, and leave you gasping for air. And for what? Because you expected.
You actually expected him to be different?
You expected her to remember?
You thought…?
You felt…?
Honestly, you must enjoy disappointment—unwrapping it like some twisted Christmas gift.
You wanted the raw, hard truth? Fine: you set yourself up for it. Every time.
Welcome to the club.
Here's the rule: expect less from everybody else. Expect more from yourself.
Yeah, it sucks when you disappoint yourself, but at least you can handle you.
You can't control anyone else.
It's so damn annoying. Imagine just breathing—just existing—and someone comes along and makes you think, Okay, maybe I can expect something here.
And then? Nope. Nothing.
Ugh.
Anyway, I watched some movies this weekend. They were nice. I enjoyed them.
Do I feel like talking about them? Not really.
I'm tired now. I don't want to talk anymore.
Thanks, babes. I'm about to head home.
Oh, and yeah, I could really use a pussy massage. 😎✨