I pray a lot about these bad feelings inside but I can’t pray my way through or around it

“…obstacles do not exist to be surrendered to, but only to be broken.” by Adolf Hitler, the artist.

How hard is life really?
On a timidly tainted with humidity summer’s July day in New Hampshire…One can enter into an entirely different realm then had been their life’s destination not seconds before.
Working with canines it is nothing short than learning from the masters of loving life. I had acquired such an emotionally lucrative job on a particularly tossed with dampness July’s day.
I had been spotted and fawned over way before the entrance of my lanky blonde frame and I suppose some would call it, creeped, by a vixen tossed about by varied biased emotions on homosexuality.
Her frame slouched by an unusual attachment to her mother, outward ego covered in confusion and then painted over with gray on gray apparel. Typically, not what I am in the mood for.
Preferably I would like someone to dress up the rest of the ‘possible’ relationship not drag it down into a cellulite jungle of ‘ice cream puddles and chocolate chip wet dreams.’
The hair upon this saddened by life creature not quite dyed and not quite ready for success.
The line sprouting from my soon to be supervisor and sexually frustrated admirer?
Ambien/Annie:
“My love life is like this… beautiful ladies typically walk on by me and I never know what to say.”
WTF? Where on earth did this sexually confused and obviously misread dysfunctional come from?
I sat and not listened and learned quickly I would receive no training. My other training in the wants of a twenty-something, however, were akin to Harold and Maude.
She did her best patting the trunk of her dead Grandpa Ed’s Malibu to entice me into taking a seat with stories on homophobia,  sexual harassments,  physical harassments, the Adopt-A-Mother from Highway to Hell and the birth mother with a list of boyfriends longer than a NYC phonebook.
The poor me I’m rich. The wah, wah, wah, Daddy takes care of the bounced checks. And, the I haven’t had a good lay since I’ve been out of the closet…guess what, I’m not even out of the closet.  Were the indexes pages to a bad romance paperback book.
The drinking, the drugging, the unprotected sex with any swinging dick and Harry.
Had me choked up on resentment and lighted my way to writing a novel on deprivation and dumbing down.

Plot Line: This chic was ready, willing and able to take out anything politically correct and pull it all the way down into sex on the job with subordinates.
I wanted to be there to watch the carnage.
So, when the ‘not’ training subsided and the story began to unfold for the summer…the only thought that came to mind when she asked me to have sex with her because everyone else turned her down?

What was once your pain will be your home

“you know me and Jesus we’re of the same heart The only thing that keeps us distant is that I keep fuckin up!”

So, I say, let the hunger games begin!