Haven't a clue why I have been as squeaky clean with my words, because, to be perfectly honest, the world is never 'clean'. It's dingy, murky, and full of grotesque abominations that would even the most heinous hell-raisers of the deepest pits even cringe. Corruption of the light happening daily, the feeling of hopelessness doing more to debase one's life than any issue one might face.
Personally, right now, I am sitting in a chair, hoping it was electrified, or I possibly had a nine millimeter in hand, give it a taste, and wait for the messy climax with quite an anticipation that is rivaled to the mere mention of an iPad for Christmas.
Speaking of Christmas, it makes it nearly impossible for anyone working a job, let alone two, to have any time to one's-self. I have two jobs, and, with such, I have only one day off this week, and, lo and behold, it's my mother's birthday. Have I done something wrong? Have I been doing a crappy job with my work? Why does it feel more like a punishment than it does a congratulation? I can't do much of anything because of gas, because of what I want to do for her birthday, because of working every other day for the entirety of the week, for everything that people want me to do.... It's becoming too much.
End of the world, do your stuff.
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