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Tired old fag dramatic scene, take 1.


I am awake before the rise of dawn with the taste of vomit and God knows what else in my mouth/ The only thing I can think of is me,however. I tried to use the ways of prudent thinkers of the past to sort out my obsession with myself, but I realized that there is no methods in post hoc or any amphiboly that would help me out. I wish the taste of vomit wasn’t so strong.

It’s getting harder and harder to have those spikes of fun ship freddy I once had. It’s getting harder and harder to focus on what that means.

The past and the present are crashing into each other like two loaded train on the wrong tracks and the horrible mashed up mess which is the future looks dreadful.
I need a magical stopwatch like in Clockstoppers.

Is this how Gust feels?

“It is in pardoning
that we are pardoned”
-Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi

August 15, 2002 There is a line among these lines that holds true even until today.

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