two years, all in one box.

You know those times when you decide to finally part from negativity and then a millionaire sitting behind a cherry wood desk hands you your last check and says..."fuck you"...ya, I'm having one of those times.

In the midst of my breakdown on the drive home, what I'm sure was an ugly sight to the other commuters on the freeway, I began to smile.

This chapter ended a little sooner than I thought, but my goodness I'm glad it did.

Each day I wake up it is proof that I'm still here to accomplish something. So I just roll with it.

So, to the man behind the cherry wood desk: fuck thank you.

I still have work to do.


Vivenorie.

The third year.

I was wrong.

It was never a waste of time.

I love him,

And that's the beginning and end of everything.

Vivenorie.