As you wish.

This disjointed, rambling post is a confusing mess of emotional vomit that only one person might understand.

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One question. One answer.

“Did he ever really love me?”

“If he never did, and was simply having fun messing with my head, it’s okay to say so. It’s just hard to live not knowing.”

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It’s all coming back to me now. Via Meat Loaf, not Celine Dion.

Whoa. Talk about being blindsided.

I’d wondered whether it was a good idea to write that blog entry about Amtrak_To_Hell, and then yesterday I heard from his best friend, D — the person who introduced me to him. D needed help with something, and then mentioned that he’d read my blog, and told me to try to be at peace with myself. Which got me thinking. Am I?

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A one way ticket on the Amtrak To Hell.

To say that I had second thoughts about writing this post is very likely the understatement of a lifetime. However, it’s been a couple of days, and a post I read by Roissy In DC refuses to leave my mind. In it, he says, among other things:

“The quintessential masculine quality women can’t resist is SUPREME UNSHAKEABLE CONFIDENCE.”

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