This is such an aberrant innervation that myself is processing, feels like I’m emotionally unstable and I can’t wait to screw hard those hindrances and tell the world, “I survived! Hell? In yo’ face!”
All predicaments seem to have aftertastes; all of those are simply not ideal and I’m letting myself not to be so exemplary for every human being in this world, the point of realizing that all of these ideas are useless, senseless and weird is fast approaching.
Moreover, I’m expecting that all of the things in my mind are just those simple stuff that I can use for future reference and not to wind (verb) me hard at this very moment. If I will disappear and hell yeah, if the human kind will end later, I am not scared… for at least I am not the only one who will be out of life in this earth. I don’t like this kind of feeling. I’m dying (exaggeration and a half)