blind anger that you can't understand unless you've been there. unless you've had your own version of the story. there are two ends to be on. eventually you experience them both. it matters not how pretty you are. and charm, especially charm has no meaning here. the big accusation: tis always selfishness. grown-ups act like children, and even children act like children. children are inexperienced without past mistakes to compare you to....loving unconditionally should it be allowed and encouraged. until the first stroke, arm numb, fog in the eyes, and a searing pain. the major affecteds are the heart and head. but there are cases of affected genitals. gravity becomes angry with your tunnel vision and staples you to the bed, or floor, where should you be comfortable. things get slower and thoughts stretch long like a licked together Abbazabba. you hate like you love, careful with the edges, kinder on the offense, never without a backward answer. Cameron said it best..."pardon my french, but yr an asshole". it could be quite a spectator sport, just never admit it. they "claim" to hate "games". fuck nuances and your "tone", i knew it first and yr just jealous. Re-creation happens fast, or so it seems. the second times, sometimes thirds and fourths make attempts at role jumping. hurt is active and passive. i don't boast for what i've learned, for it was little, so much i'm embarrassed. but you'll never make if you never do, and so should you, too. i make little promises with that constant voice "my life is a joke". i retort, mine too, mine too. so freakin' great isn't it
though digressing, not really much because two heads are better than one. and i'm gonna get mine through any means possible.
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