Karma 1 Roberto 0

I really don't want to talk about it...with anyone...ever. it hurts too much. My heart broke into tiny little pieces today as only he knows how to...again...and again...and AGAIN. Ungrateful son of a bitch, all the magic, romance, and love that I've brought to you, only for you to put us through this again. Of all the little hearts that children draw in their school notebooks representing love, you're the exception, the antihero, no, the evil villain. To make me feel better, according to you, you do this in order to become a temporary vessel once again between the tip of my thumb typing this "ado" into my iphone 5 and the occasional glimpse of that microscopic piece of truth reserved for me, which lies suspended in the perfect infinite yet unchanging and timeless unperceivable universe beyond our senses. Reality with a capital "R," that which created us and at the same time we create it. God. May be. Angel, I knew this would be my life from now on.

Instead, I'll tell you how I may or may not die within the next 15 minutes...

While walking up the street feeling like shit, it adds a bit to the drama, how I have to hold the left part of my chest with my right hand over the cord resting under my puffy coat that connects my iphone to my new headphone earmuffs, in order to be able to keep the sound art of Dizzy Gillespie in both my ears instead of just the left one. local 86th and 3rd passersby will forever giggle-out stories of a guy with a funny-looking puffy coat, found after peek hours, lying face down on the side of the road tastefully but tragically murdered by a jazzy heart attack with beginnings in his left eardrum, on his way to buy odor-control bedding for his dwarf hamster Carmelita at Petco. dying listening to Dizzy? not too shabby. I'm paying a ridiculous bill at AT&T now, which will definitely contribute to this untimely end of me. this is the name costumer service here knows me by, and probably how I will be remembered...