I changed my sheets and you are now replaced and forgotten, your scent disappearing behind a cloudful of lavender scented Lysol. Pppppppppppppppfffffffffffftttttttttttttttttttt and goodbye.

The Musician happened into my life about a month or two ago. He plays the guitar, is incredibly introverted, but when he does bring out his self to play he's a lot of fun, surprisingly so. Very intuitive and sensitive, but at the same time kind of insecure and unsure of himself. He's so quiet people often forget they have met him time and time again. Until they see him on-stage and then he is remembered, engraved into the medulla oblongata, part of an exploding synapse somewhere in the left brain.

I'm dumping the booty call. I'm tired of the games and it's not really working for me. I thought I needed a bit of drama in my life but I am recalling that idea now. No, no drama.

El Club de Los Corazones Rotos. Maybe that could be the name of our band? We'd make really sad, slightly depressing music. Bittersweet tunes that move and console you. Bring you to tears and wipe them away and cuddle you. Sad Panda.