So What Do You Want?

An old "friend" (we used to hook up until I got too interested the first time and not interested enough the second time, understand what I did there?) told me this afternoon after reading this here blog how she felt I was having some problems in life.

My bad. I never claimed all the things that I, or BostonGirl, write about are going to all be Strawberries and Lollipops. (FYI: Strawberries and Lollipops is the title of...wait a minute, you don't need to know that yet.)

The old friend told me I needed to stop thinking about my ex. I told her I hadn't in a long time. The day I wrote the post in question, was the first time since the last time I had thought about her. It's the first time in 6 months I even had a text message conversation with her. I asked her to re-read it and notice the end, where I clearly said I, Freddy in the Chi, was ready to move on with my life. Though the ex was extremely hard to get over, I did it and I am finally ready to go.

She told me that I drink to much and asked why I was taking sleeping pills. I told her the truth. I have a hard time sleeping sometimes and if there is anything I can do to help me achieve a peaceful nights slumber, it will be done. She told me she was worried about me again, and she feels like I am living an unhealthy lifestyle. I told her she didn't have to worry about me. Though the thoughts were appreciated.

So anyway, if this blog can't be my spot to get the things which drive me mad, out, where do I need to go? Am I to worry what people think of me because of the stories I write? Do I need to enroll them all in the Freddy in the Chi Writing Course to Say What He's Got to Say just so they can understand not everything written is non-fiction? This ain't the fucking Chicago Tribune or the New York Times. I don't need to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth here. I can write what I want, when I want and in any fucking way I want.

If you read this old "friend", its not directed toward you. Everybody I know who reads this blog tells me how I should handle this, that and the other thing. Guess what? I really don't care how they think I should handle my life.

If I wanna lie on my kitchen floor naked on a Sunday afternoon and throw darts at the ceiling, I'm gonna do it. If I wanna hop a train to the East Coast to go and try to meet this gorgeous little blond that I kinda, but not really, know...I'm gonna hop the fucking train and take it Eastern bound. If I wanna sleep on the side of the bed I used to sleep on while the ex was still part of my life, I'm gonna sleep there. Not because it's more comfortable than the other side, but because I don't feel like sleeping on the other side.

You did not go to school to tell me what is wrong with me. And the cocksuckers who did go to school to tell me that is wrong with me have never guessed right. They've told me it's this, that and the other thing...prescribed these meds, those meds and them meds...all of which haven't done a fucking thing.

There's just one thing I love more than anything. Well, anything beside my family. It's writing. I'll write about what I want. I'm not doing any of it to please a single person but me. Some of the stuff I write is the honest to God truth. Some of it a complete and utter bullshit. And there is even some that combines the two. If you don't like to read what I write, move to the next story.