A toast to your wicked wishes.
Unless the Good Lord, my body, and a physician for whom I’d be under his or her direct care inform me that I’ve got a terminal illness, at which time I’d be cognizant of my health status, then any other version(s) of those particular circumstances might be from someone who wishes I was either deceased and/or they were involved in a murder-for-hire plot to eliminate me. Henceforward, I intend to be around for a long time to observe all of the nefarious things that were contrived to either undermine, vanquish, or completely expunge me.
Inset Photo By: Andrea Tummons on Unsplash
Header Photo By: Christina Langford Miller on Unsplash
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