CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
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sdgjjsdf dfjkldf GONASD ILSDG sdklgk jdfij sIG sjG WAR NERECESARY TO THIN ON T THE HERD WHAT THE FUCK WE ARE PBETTER THAN THAT WE CAN THINK WHY DON'oT WE COME TO GETHER IN SOME BIG COLLECTIVE OF PEOPLE COLLECTIVELY LIVING COLLECTIVELY FOR THE COLLECTIVE BETTERMENT OF ALL OF THE COLLECTIVE AND BY THAT I MEAN HUMAN WE DON'T HAVE TO FOLLOW SOCIETAL TRENDS OR BIOLOGAL IMPARIMENTS WE JUST HAVE TO LOVE EACH OTHER AND EAT CAKES YOU BWATSG
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g BAT B STY SPACE BAT SPACE MONEKY I NEED A SPACE NAIMAL HMMM LELT'S FUCKNIG C HOW ABOUT SPACE DUCK A DUCK IN SPACE YAEH THAt'S AND LAZY ENOUGH TO WOTRK
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_________--
He stood at the edge of the cliff, thinking about his life. That's what he had planned to do, anyway. Really all he was thinking about was his death. No, not even that. He was thinking about jumping. The desire to do so was overwhelming, cancelling everything else in him.
Sailors throwing themselves into the rocks, he thought. Except he'd miss the rocks. He'd just go straight down and land on the sand. Would he even die, he suddenly asked himself, in a panic. What if he live? It was a long drop, but it was onto sand. He could just be lying there, still alive, but crippled, unable to move, his body broken.
He liked that idea too.
He'd lie in bed sometimes, not wanting to get up. He'd heard, of course, of the depressed staying in bed all day. He'd never been able to do that, not in the years of his depression. He always felt like he had to get up, simply because there was no reason why he couldn't. He was perfectly healthy, physically speaking. There wasn on excuse not to get up. And no matter how late he slept in, he'd always get out of bed eventually, even if all he'd do was just sit on his favourite chair downstairs, staring at that one particular stain on the wall, the one shaped like a duck. A space ducked, he called it, for some reason he couldn't remember.
He suddenly missed that stain and wondered what would happen to it after he jumped.
But still, he was going to do it. He had to. He was being pulled over the edge. And, if he did live, finally he'd have a reason not to get up. He could lie there, and sleep, the sleep of the just. Lie there happily, waiting for sleep to turn to death. Yes, he would do it. NOW.
He turned round and walked home again, as he did every night.
________-
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THE MORAL OF THE STORY?
RAPE IS FUNNY!
dgh
shd
dfh
dhs
dfhj
jhj
sdga
sdgjjsdf dfjkldf GONASD ILSDG sdklgk jdfij sIG sjG WAR NERECESARY TO THIN ON T THE HERD WHAT THE FUCK WE ARE PBETTER THAN THAT WE CAN THINK WHY DON'oT WE COME TO GETHER IN SOME BIG COLLECTIVE OF PEOPLE COLLECTIVELY LIVING COLLECTIVELY FOR THE COLLECTIVE BETTERMENT OF ALL OF THE COLLECTIVE AND BY THAT I MEAN HUMAN WE DON'T HAVE TO FOLLOW SOCIETAL TRENDS OR BIOLOGAL IMPARIMENTS WE JUST HAVE TO LOVE EACH OTHER AND EAT CAKES YOU BWATSG
gfsdfh
dgh
gh
g BAT B STY SPACE BAT SPACE MONEKY I NEED A SPACE NAIMAL HMMM LELT'S FUCKNIG C HOW ABOUT SPACE DUCK A DUCK IN SPACE YAEH THAt'S AND LAZY ENOUGH TO WOTRK
_____________---
g
_________--
He stood at the edge of the cliff, thinking about his life. That's what he had planned to do, anyway. Really all he was thinking about was his death. No, not even that. He was thinking about jumping. The desire to do so was overwhelming, cancelling everything else in him.
Sailors throwing themselves into the rocks, he thought. Except he'd miss the rocks. He'd just go straight down and land on the sand. Would he even die, he suddenly asked himself, in a panic. What if he live? It was a long drop, but it was onto sand. He could just be lying there, still alive, but crippled, unable to move, his body broken.
He liked that idea too.
He'd lie in bed sometimes, not wanting to get up. He'd heard, of course, of the depressed staying in bed all day. He'd never been able to do that, not in the years of his depression. He always felt like he had to get up, simply because there was no reason why he couldn't. He was perfectly healthy, physically speaking. There wasn on excuse not to get up. And no matter how late he slept in, he'd always get out of bed eventually, even if all he'd do was just sit on his favourite chair downstairs, staring at that one particular stain on the wall, the one shaped like a duck. A space ducked, he called it, for some reason he couldn't remember.
He suddenly missed that stain and wondered what would happen to it after he jumped.
But still, he was going to do it. He had to. He was being pulled over the edge. And, if he did live, finally he'd have a reason not to get up. He could lie there, and sleep, the sleep of the just. Lie there happily, waiting for sleep to turn to death. Yes, he would do it. NOW.
He turned round and walked home again, as he did every night.
________-
fda
sg
sg
sah
sgd
h
g
fh
h
h
jhj
THE MORAL OF THE STORY?
RAPE IS FUNNY!
