Mobile versionLooking for a muse
The other day my ex wrote. He started the old hurray about how life is shit and women are whores. At 33 years old, he lives with his grandmother, works for pennies, and treats HIV. A surrendered man with no prospects or goals. If I were him, I would go to psychological training or a course on “How to get out of an ass.” Sometimes infogypsy bullshit, some kind of kick, helps me.
Naturally, he crap all the coaches from head to toe and refused to even discuss. And I’m tired of coming up with rescue operations for the reincarnation of male will. I admitted that I couldn’t help. And then he utters a brilliant phrase: “I got it!” I need... a muse! For her sake, I will act and achieve.” Hmm, well, well.
If you choose between two evils, which is more effective?
Looking for a muse
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