It’s hard to tell the truth. Where do you even begin? It’s easy to start right in the middle and look back while the story is going. But then again, there’s so much backstory, how could present day be the perfect place to start? I guess I will start by just telling you about myself. Because honestly, whatever it is I am about to tell you may not even be the truth. Only my version of it. And who could tell if that’s really truth because my perception has been so distorted and altered, years of Mary Jane daydreams and delusional living. But aren’t we all just a little delusional? Don’t we tell ourselves little white lies just to get by? See, it’s hard to tell the truth.
I am a Leo. Dramatic af. fr. Like fr fr. I get bored very easily. I am a cat, so of course Tom loves chasing Jerry around. But if he ever caught him, he would get bored and stop playing. That’s how I am with men. I love playing with them. But once I have my claws sunk in and they aren’t playing anymore, I am over it. What is the fun in playing with a dead mouse? It’s just the sport of the thing. Not much more entertains or satisfies me like that. I have gone to speed dating events just to simply see how many men I can make fall in love with me under a time limit.
I am always begging for attention from the alpha. Daddy issues?? Yes, I think so. Oh well. That’s the story of a million girls. Typical. I have a twist of sociopathic narcissism. But I feel like if we REALLY tell the truth, that’s pretty typical as well. We all have good ole social guilt to keep us all in line.
I think my biggest issue is I don’t know what I am subscribed to. And I keep letting people influence my beliefs. But I feel like my beliefs are just resources that I can reference when I am trying to win an argument. And I have finally found a man that there is no winning with.

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