Carlos is a dick.

I have a cat and his name is Carlos…he is also a dick.
I don’t even like cats, I used love (tolerate) all living things until I met Carlos.
I never really thought about having kids, but thanks to Carlos I can never have positive thoughts about caring for children.
I’m bored with Carlos and because he is a dick, I gather he is bored with me.
Carlos was an impulse decision in my loneliness to love and have something love me back.
I was wrong.
He fills my heart with trepidation every time I return home from a late night of binge drinking and dope smoking.
As if I’d had done something wrong, gone out to have a good time leaving him at home alone while he rips up the toilet paper role.
Shits anywhere he pleases.
While I sleep I wake to find him laying on my chest as a grim reminder that he isn’t going anywhere.
I will never learn to love (tolerate) anything/anyone because of Carlos.
And for some reason he also reminds me of my loathing for Bob Dylan.

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