The choices I have made reflect in ponds much like a hardened criminals stares at their own. Recoiled at thought of �this cannot be me�. I am that person and nothing can separate my life from my dreams, its distorted now. What was once true fails false and its bastards line for the same truth. Alex gives me skeletal pressure to be more. Not more of a human more so at home take care of wife pressure by working for anyone regardless of scruples. What the fuck is that?

At the moment she received the ring she was happy, now she picks it apart in front of other friends and people because of its simplicity. Was I right a few years back and mental recourse a few weeks ago, is Alex a gold digger?

I�d love to be wrong but I fear that I may be right. She does love damaged goods after all.