There are times when I hope someone finds this journal after I die and thinks that’s interesting. There are other times when I hope no one ever finds it because, even in death, I’d be embarrassed.
On occasion, the part of me that hopes the journal is interesting wishes he were a poet. The idea of piecing words together at night sounds so much more fulfilling than piecing together a fantasy football lineup.
In search of fulfillment tonight, I stayed away from fantasy football, but ended up on YouTube. I must’ve watched animal videos for close to an hour. I like the ones with the screaming goats, but I must say, what some of those cat people are doing in the name of fun might actually be torture.
I wrote a poem about...
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