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So I’m guilty of clutter, even on this blog. Writing should be able to breathe and stand alone and shine, but I decide nearly every time that I have something else to say. So something more profound gets hidden in the ruff of triviality and mania.


Okay, maybe mania equals too much caffeine.


Dear Flake,


You have brought the flakiness out in me, and for that, I am grateful. I feel like I’m one of the people I’ve dated. Well, if I talk to him, okay. If I don’t, okay…less work for me. I never realized how freeing this feeling could be. I don’t even kid myself it will last but for now, I’m feeling cool (not cold) and appropriately unattached.


Bryan has said repeatedly that to be successful in dating, one must not care at all on the front end. I have achieved this for the moment!


Apathy is not numbness, kind sir.


Flake on, Mr. Flake. At this rate, I will be Mrs. Flake in no time, and we can have Flake babies, whom we can flake out on.




Your very own Medicated Lady-Flake

SOB with me

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