Excuse my French.

May they never
Return home at night…

May you have no part of eventide,
May you have no room of your own,
Nor road, nor return.
May your days be all exactly the same,
Five Fridays in a row,
Always an unlucky Tuesday,
No Sunday,
May you have no more little worries,
Tears or inspiration,
For you yourself are the greatest worry on earth:

Prisoner!”
― Visar ZhitiThe Condemned Apple: Selected Poetry

I’m at the end of the proverbial rope. I have tried calm talking. I have tried spells to deflect the negativity and meditation. Lots and lots of meditation. I thought maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m just struggling against change and need to go with the flow.

Nope. It ain’t me.

It’s her. It’s been over a year and she needs to go.

Starting now.

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So, what do you think?

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