An. Image. A screenshot that is. That’s all I got as a reply. So.. should I read between the lines or those capital letters already answered it all?

Okay, I’ve made a mistake. Two mistakes. One, I slept with another girl. Two, I slept with that girl’s sister. At the same time. So it was kind of two mistakes at once you know. Should I count it as one? Damn, I got a boner just thinking about it.

But I mean, come on. It’s a fucking once in a lifetime experience right? It was for me at least. I didn’t say I didn’t regret it with all my heart that I hurt her but I can’t say I wish it never happened either because it would be a bunch of bullshits. To top it all, we were on a break. The break that she insisted. So it’s classic “we were on a break” thing.

So what now? Should I quit then? Quit bothering her and just move on? Or this is just another game of “catch me if you can”? Was that a “try harder” shout? Or an “I’m sorry, I’ve moved on long ago”? What woman? What??

Rrgh. I really don’t understand women.



“Everyday. Everysinglefuckingday.”

That is the answer of ‘how often do you think of me these days’ question. There hasn’t been a day passed that the thought of you, how insignificant it might be, failed to cross my mind. There… now you know the truth, so what’s you’re going to do about it now?

Great. I’m doomed. Why was I ask the question again? Oh yes, of course, my cute little fingers just acted on their own will. They’ve decided to sent the biggest question of this century of my life out of my consent. It must be my subconscious, is it? I mean, two bottles of beer shouldn’t be that dangerous. Or so I thought. Or maybe I was already itching to ask it all this long and just finally had a reason to sent it: I was drunk. Well, for whatever reason, it’s out. The question came out and now I’ve got the answer. Now I got to answer back. That’s why I’m doomed. How am I supposed to answer that?