I get these stiff muscle contractions, or twitches, or very minute rapid aggressive impositions. Like I’m going to kill you.

It’s scary, is the point.

But, what I’m also saying is, I don’t have a criminal record.

I smacked a cop once. With the inner flat of my hand.

I went to jail, my family “bailed” (whatever that means) me. And the trial was like, our lawyer showed up and nothing happened and I was let go.

Now I’m fee and maybe I have a criminal record, maybe I don’t. I don’t know.

But I don’t.

So I guess I should be happy with my own endings.

You love wasting free time, don’t you.

Oh no. My manager knows.

He can’t know.

Now he knows he can’t know.

How do people know so much this is confusing.

Now he’s angry.

Help someone kill him.

Ugh. This is complicated.

I came here for a simple blog post and now I’m getting neuropathic spikes.

I guess talking about my aggressive fasciculations was more than I bargained for.

I give up with this one.

My mood is worse now.

I’ll get the algorithm down sooner or later.

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