iaremunyee

The misadventures of the heart and sometimes, the stomach.

Somebody Else’s Superman.

I am in love with somebody else’s Superman.   When she bleeds crimson, you brush it off say that it’s fine. It blends in with the cape. I can take it to the laundromat after this. When she’s cold you set yourself alight to keep her warm, make excuses for her, shield her from life’s

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Diagnosis.

I went to see a psychiatrist today. A shrink, a doctor of the mind, a second opinion.   I wanted to plead insanity. I wanted someone to tell me that it’s not biologically possible for me to be truly happy, that I can’t help all of this sadness. Tell me that I am the byproduct

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One Million.

Last week I was part of a music video that went viral across the country. My second taste of Internet fame since the infamous Anus of Satan article. We had three people, a limited budget and even less singing talent but we hit 1.5million views in a span of three days. The local newspaper called

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