Because I’m growing up… and out again. It’s time,
Thanks to Pops and Honey
For loaning me and helping me with my money.
I know my actions often appear quite “funny,”
And my presentation’s not always sunny,
But please don’t worry,
Don’t worry about my hurry,
I know it might look rather blurry,
But the winds of change have stirred me,
Into a better place.
And because of God’s and your grace,
I don’t plan to exit planet-space.
My goal’s now to finish This Race.
I can’t promise you no disgrace.
But I can promise you I’ll be okay.
Post Script for my Untrusteds:
I hate to mar this sweet post to my parents with ridiculous disclaimers that “there is no money.” How does a person get real and not alert people with less than admirable intentions that they only carry their exact lunch money? Because I’m being relentlessly stalked online and getting fed up with your evil intentions towards me. It’s not conjecture; it’s objectively true, and it makes me very sad. While raising my simmering ire in equal measure.