My criticisms are infinite. Present me with a dill hole and I’ll properly, thoroughly deconstruct them. I’m not responsible for their ensuing therapy after such an experience. Unfortunately my worst critiques are directed inward. We are our worst critics.
If you’ve read more than a single entry I’ve written, you know I’m severely off kilter. Something is wrong with me and people pay the consequences. Adding to that is the fact that I love whatever’s wrong with me and will never capitulate. Sorry. Not sorry for being me but more so sorry that you provide me with way too much material to ridicule you with. If you were a machine, you would be the contraption that sets up bowling pins.