I want to write this to my psychiatrist or therapist, like they can help me. I have hope. I shouldn’t There’s nothing they can do in actuality. It’s a strange conundrum, or confluence. I just felt like using a c word. Crappy cunt. Cuntola.

Clearwater later.

But what it is.

It says…

Maybe longer.

It’s easy to be artsy fartsy when it’s short. It’s harder to be aesthetic and long at the same time. Girth mattress. Beyond astound. Came I say no?

What have you? Halfing? Footage. Want me go for height. Stupid ones! Whaling.

But it’s clean.


Ha ha. Uh ha.

Where you goin’?



Me myself.

I am drinking water and trying to restore my neurotransmitters.

I’m so creative I should have a legion. But I’m also really angry a lot and people don’t like that. Except Palace Time they like being religiously angry. With guns.


Guns aren’t allowed in religion.

They missed the fine text.

Guns aren’t allowed in religion.

Every pacifist knows this.

What else…



Oy achta.


Not currently accepting I do apologize.

I’m trying to rebalance my neurotransmitters and hydrate. I feel so thrown off. My brain doesn’t feel normal. I feel on the verge of panic, but also happy? It’s so weird. I’ve never felt this before. It certainly doesn’t feel like a normal feeling. Does anyone know what I’m talking about? Can anyone share their related experience? I’ll have better luck getting contribs on Reddit tbh.


LEAVE ME BEANS ringo bingo shingo starrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.


*zip-ties fingers*

Well-meaning farts for a well-meaning farter.

Fuuuuuck I’m so creative pussy pussy pussy I’m a banger.

Eat shit.

Come down town.

And follow the leetists.

Well left trunk opens at least.


It just never stops…

It just never stops…

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