I sit here before you leaden with guilt and shrouded within discontent. For you see,I let the overpowering clout of addiction clasp its iron grip around my conciousness which set into motion a self propeled delusion that has lasted until this very day.
Thinking back on that enamored autumn day six years ago I can hardly come to terms with myself. A day unlike any other. A day in which I kissed the lips that would plauge my thoughts, actions, and behavior for years to come. In hindsight I wonder where I would be today if I had not decided to sojourn with "the one" that had so unknowingly enticed my palate with the infection in which I speak so loathedly of. I curse him! I spit upon his very existance. Alas, I cannot blame him. For I know it was me and me alone that walked through that door of compliance. He just told me where the key was under the mat, so to speak.
So where does this leave me? It would be easier to subtract from the list the non accomplishments that have left my soul in an array of disbelief than try to formulate a coisive aurgument for anything I had attempted to accomplish in the last six years.
For christ sake, I quit smoking after thirteen years of that "pack a day" habit in less time it took me to subjugate this erroneous avocation.
But today I sit before you absolved of my sin. I seek forgivness in the light of humanity and acceptance back into the world of men. Although I will make my thirty second'ith trip around the sun next month, and that my marriage is on the verge of collapse, and that for so long I neglected my skills as an artisan to which have receded into infancy, and my well being is in gross neglect, and I have not worked tward any semblence of a career since the infestation took hold of my conciousness...
I now wonder if I can bring my self back from the brink of dispair. Will I beable to resolve my marriage woes and endow my significant other with a sense of compliance and prove that I have cut the stem at the root? When one crys wolf too many times they realize all too late that they have aggrevied the sacred endowment of trust, in which I feel I have already wrought. Will I beable to reconcieve what once was and bring my essence forthwith onto a canvas knowing that from years of neglect, the hand and eye no nonger conjoin in the symmetry that once was an intuitional prowess? Will I yet beable to fabricate some form of dignification and formulate a career out of six lost years?
Will I ever be a whole being again?
Will I ever say the acronym that begiled my life for so long?
I cast the stone into the water and bequeath its mark upon the ripples of eternity, forever never reapeating the name...MMORG
this is a true story, and I do need help.