I lost my jumpdrive recently. I really hope I find my jumpdrive. That little piece of metal contained my life anthology, the fruits of my arduous and tumultuous labor. Immediately, I became disillusioned with my futile aspirations of grandeur and immortality. Is my career in serious jeopardy?
In addition to my artistic dilemma lies a more serious matter; an organism who has come to be characterized as nonetheless as… the words are so neophytic to my vocabulary, I’d dare break the sacred grammatical rules if I disclosed them here. I do not know what veritably attributes my state of constant distress; it could be a combination of factors. It is my first foray into this world of symbiosis; mutualism if you will. Although, whether this relationship is an example of commensalism or parasitism, I cannot distinguish.
These primeval attempts to even decipher that somewhat ubiquitous language of mutual affection constitute the primary obstacle of this week.
I am vacillating between both sides of the uneven spectrum. My notorious indecisiveness remains a prominent attribute of my personality; and I possess little means to remedy the situation.
I suppose it is enough to mention that this Friday concludes the first week of this relationship; I feel somewhat elated to be the first woman to last more than a time period of seven days. I must be someone of relative significance.
Can I adequately be described as a lovesick woman, in terms of my relative mental instability? Masochism always seemed to call me, appropriate to its counterfeit façade and nefarious enticements. So much knowledge does not pertain to me at this moment; whether we shall last a considerable and legitimate amount of time; the location of my jumpdrive at this particular point in time; or whether I possess an adequate amount of competency.
As certain religious dogma states, there remains only one course of action: to plead and pray desperately to our Almighty Savior above for a positive outcome. We shall hope that I have fallen into His good graces recently. Contentment always seemed to elude me.
In addition to my artistic dilemma lies a more serious matter; an organism who has come to be characterized as nonetheless as… the words are so neophytic to my vocabulary, I’d dare break the sacred grammatical rules if I disclosed them here. I do not know what veritably attributes my state of constant distress; it could be a combination of factors. It is my first foray into this world of symbiosis; mutualism if you will. Although, whether this relationship is an example of commensalism or parasitism, I cannot distinguish.
These primeval attempts to even decipher that somewhat ubiquitous language of mutual affection constitute the primary obstacle of this week.
I am vacillating between both sides of the uneven spectrum. My notorious indecisiveness remains a prominent attribute of my personality; and I possess little means to remedy the situation.
I suppose it is enough to mention that this Friday concludes the first week of this relationship; I feel somewhat elated to be the first woman to last more than a time period of seven days. I must be someone of relative significance.
Can I adequately be described as a lovesick woman, in terms of my relative mental instability? Masochism always seemed to call me, appropriate to its counterfeit façade and nefarious enticements. So much knowledge does not pertain to me at this moment; whether we shall last a considerable and legitimate amount of time; the location of my jumpdrive at this particular point in time; or whether I possess an adequate amount of competency.
As certain religious dogma states, there remains only one course of action: to plead and pray desperately to our Almighty Savior above for a positive outcome. We shall hope that I have fallen into His good graces recently. Contentment always seemed to elude me.
