Joey
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Dec 22, 2015
- Messages
- 6,801
So, I've been spending my time. Throwing cash in the trash garbage whore who occasionally comes by to wreak havoc on my life. I have no appreciation for this person whatsoever. Sometimes I don't even give this person the justification of a steady name or identity or anything. It's preferable to be nonplussed about things like the basics of who I am when I'm a worthless whore.
Now that that's out of the way. I would absolve myself of the sexism pertained above of my current letterhead but it's actually the most sexist and hateful thing in the world to be so unable to just have sex by and with myself that I'll literally meet up with people I don't at any point think are going to be anything like good or healthy for me just because whatever. I'm not even sure why I do it actually! Fairly recently I had this one guy over and he just wanted me to jerk off and he gave me $150 for doing it. He looks forward to doing it again, when I clean; Because even a worthless street junkie and whore for the type who likes to do this a talk dirty with his small, misshapen cock to play cricket on me with can manage to lose clientele! I'm a little bit wiser now, for sure. Surely glad I've had this experience to "grow" with well into my 30s now. I know exactly what I'm doing. And I'm writing this honestly and in perfect unison with something that happened recently.
I've become tired, apolitical, and still - I'm more spirited than I used to be. I've fallen well into myself on my way falling down wherever I am going. I don't really feel that unwavering nihilistic depression as bad as I used to - except when I do. I still have some serious questions about how many suicides could be prevented if people just read Philosophy 101 again - and catch that it was actually written that meaning will be found in the end of it all; Maybe if you manage to avoid death, you can raving mad like Freidrich did, or like some Edgar Allan Poe character out of one of his books and your nightmares in tandem with a hindu omen of death being warded off by a werewolf in your dreams. Being told you're very fortunate and lucky for having such a protector. Believing that the person who's talking to you is actually dead accurate. Because this is literally my experience of it. There's some dog that follows me around when I'm spiritually weak and it's not friendly or there to console or anything. It scared the literal hell out of me so I wake up. So I don't die.
There are literally people running off of roofs in India due to one of a set of 10 gods in Hindu making appearances as a cyber-kinetic troll version of the original. It's so well known it can be watched about on Netflix or some similar service and it's accepted. Everyone knows about this. COVID-19 perhaps has had some spiritual element to the effects of it putting people in such a place so as to summon the cross between tech and religion into some retroactive continuity error glitching about your roof in India. It's some dark shit, and I believe that since so many people are able to verify that they are truly living with some experience here - that's experiential enough to justify an existence. Don't worry about the detail of that though. Whatever your belief system is, it will be sure to make an appearance in form to your (maybe lack of) inclination to whatever polymono-spirituality you live with yourself with.
So, next time I literally prostitute myself, should I dress to the left or to the right? I don't believe in bipartisan politics, but my tailor is worried about this question for some reason. He keeps asking me for money though. That's not how this works buddy. When you make statements about my cock, it's supposed to be about how stupidly savage and horny you are for someone who's pretty well dying inside and full of needle marks to keep secret from your wife and kids. Because I don't mind this. I really don't. When I cry just about every day about it, it's actually just allergies. I take fentanyl for my allergy symptoms. Do you mind covering me a point or a few and a tip as well?
Now that that's out of the way. I would absolve myself of the sexism pertained above of my current letterhead but it's actually the most sexist and hateful thing in the world to be so unable to just have sex by and with myself that I'll literally meet up with people I don't at any point think are going to be anything like good or healthy for me just because whatever. I'm not even sure why I do it actually! Fairly recently I had this one guy over and he just wanted me to jerk off and he gave me $150 for doing it. He looks forward to doing it again, when I clean; Because even a worthless street junkie and whore for the type who likes to do this a talk dirty with his small, misshapen cock to play cricket on me with can manage to lose clientele! I'm a little bit wiser now, for sure. Surely glad I've had this experience to "grow" with well into my 30s now. I know exactly what I'm doing. And I'm writing this honestly and in perfect unison with something that happened recently.
I've become tired, apolitical, and still - I'm more spirited than I used to be. I've fallen well into myself on my way falling down wherever I am going. I don't really feel that unwavering nihilistic depression as bad as I used to - except when I do. I still have some serious questions about how many suicides could be prevented if people just read Philosophy 101 again - and catch that it was actually written that meaning will be found in the end of it all; Maybe if you manage to avoid death, you can raving mad like Freidrich did, or like some Edgar Allan Poe character out of one of his books and your nightmares in tandem with a hindu omen of death being warded off by a werewolf in your dreams. Being told you're very fortunate and lucky for having such a protector. Believing that the person who's talking to you is actually dead accurate. Because this is literally my experience of it. There's some dog that follows me around when I'm spiritually weak and it's not friendly or there to console or anything. It scared the literal hell out of me so I wake up. So I don't die.
There are literally people running off of roofs in India due to one of a set of 10 gods in Hindu making appearances as a cyber-kinetic troll version of the original. It's so well known it can be watched about on Netflix or some similar service and it's accepted. Everyone knows about this. COVID-19 perhaps has had some spiritual element to the effects of it putting people in such a place so as to summon the cross between tech and religion into some retroactive continuity error glitching about your roof in India. It's some dark shit, and I believe that since so many people are able to verify that they are truly living with some experience here - that's experiential enough to justify an existence. Don't worry about the detail of that though. Whatever your belief system is, it will be sure to make an appearance in form to your (maybe lack of) inclination to whatever polymono-spirituality you live with yourself with.
So, next time I literally prostitute myself, should I dress to the left or to the right? I don't believe in bipartisan politics, but my tailor is worried about this question for some reason. He keeps asking me for money though. That's not how this works buddy. When you make statements about my cock, it's supposed to be about how stupidly savage and horny you are for someone who's pretty well dying inside and full of needle marks to keep secret from your wife and kids. Because I don't mind this. I really don't. When I cry just about every day about it, it's actually just allergies. I take fentanyl for my allergy symptoms. Do you mind covering me a point or a few and a tip as well?