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Sebastyne

A rock fan. A thinker. A psychic empath and a channel, a Tarot reader. The lover of men, kings, and gods. An eternal romance analyser. A polyandrist. A romantic pervert. (A psycho-spiritual life coach.)

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McConaughey and me, a match made in heaven

Ok, you know those Twin Flame signs huh? Yeah, so here’s a load for you. First, watch this:

Now, yeah. I’ve got a story to go with both of those accounts.

When I was 4 years old, I took part in a cross country skiing competition, that would have been 1980. Yeah, I started fourth in line, because my last name starts with an R, and I did my freaking best. I skied like my life depended on it. All this while, I was looking over my shoulder to check that nobody was overtaking me. Nobody did. I was proud as anything, I was clearly a sporty kid.

I got to the finish line, and I got a spoon for my performance. I won. I freaking won.

Years later I check the engraving on that damned spoon and it says IV. Yeah. My parents didn’t have the heart to tell me that nobody passed me because they all started before me, there were only 4 kids in the competition, and I overtook nobody. So… Bummer. Not only that, I had been so slow, that they were thinking of sending a search party for me. No wonder the spoon was presented right at the finish line rather than on a podium. Everyone else had pretty much gone home for the day.

Although my mother didn’t teach me to plagiarize, I did that all on my own at a poetry competition in 7th grade. (13.) I didn’t give two shits about poetry, it was the last thing I’d do, but everyone was required to participate. So instead of taking the time to write a few lines of something of beauty, I reworded something I had read in a teen mag a few weeks before… Sinä Minä (You I) I believe it was… Or something. I was crying about not having shoes until I met a guy who had no legs… That one. Yeah. I won. I won. Didn’t get a trophy, but I got myself a gift card for a book store and I used it to buy myself a book of names because whenever I was writing fiction, I could never come up with good sounding names, so in a sense I think the prize went into the right hands – after all I write… Just not poetry. Never poetry. I am freaking awesome with aphorisms and one-liners though.

And… about my mum… She didn’t help me plagiarize, but she did, often, falsify the documents required for me to skip school. Whenever I overslept, or we overslept, she would insist we take the day off because it would be less suspicious than turning up at school a few minutes late. Then she would write the report card saying “diarrhea” under the assumption that because the condition is both short lived and embarrassing, the teachers would never ask why I didn’t come to school. So yeah.

I mean enough said, right? I’m just waiting for that sham of a marriage to fall apart. Rrriipe for pickings, I say.

 

 

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I said

The difference between a rap artist and a rock star? A rap artist makes up stories of crimes he never committed, a rock star sweeps them under the rug.

Sebastyne

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