Fortunately I’ve never been a sucker for happy ends, the fade to black since in life it’s bullshit. A Hollywood born abortion that somehow can’t fall off the silver screen amidst the fumes of the highway. Though I do know that out there, amidst the sun is that love is a fucking beauty: the hangovers, apologies, fuck-ups and then the ultimatum, get in or get out and for some that’s almost an impossibility as it’s always going to be the two of them the ugly fucking truth that reminds them life isn’t perfect, never has been and never will be as there’s no sunset in this jaded glimmering allegorical mess that’s been engulfed in a flurry of hate and heads. Though no matter how many times you get it wrong and overuse the word now, the belief in a man walks into a bar and it all goes imperfect once again will be there. Though as long as there’s hope, love, writing and this flurry you shouldn’t give up because she might just be the one to save you from this crazy little swirling black hole called yourself.