I think, I owe it to The Narrator to housekeep this blog and delete some of my old posts. They are arguably a bane to this blog's existence, and I cannot for the life of me imagine them being a legacy when I'm dead. So off to the rubbish bin they went, along with the memories of the person of whom I wrote them for.
So what is up with me? After the stint on the tropical island ended, I was sent to a little shit hole on the south of the mainland. That place totally blew... which made for a wretched and miserable old me. The highlights of my day would be watching Netflix after work and going for restroom breaks at work (They played an excellent selection of music there by the way - was where I discovered The Black Keys.. right at the comfort of a random toilet bowl). I hated the place the minute I got in, and have been plotting my escape since. If you ask me why, I cannot remember why anymore. It's stored in a dark corner of my mind that I do not wish to revisit. I just knew that I should get the fuck out of there. And I did, all within 3 months.
So now I am back, to the place I used to bitch and whine about. I wasn't lying when I said I did not want to come back. I truly did not want to come back. And then I was condemned to hell on earth. A land where Mexicans would kill to get in and Indians would cheat and lie and annoy the fuck out people to get a working permit. And I couldn't leave fast enough.
So thank you M.
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