Every single year at the worst fucking moment the brain weevils attack and make doing anything besides the most mind numbing activities super impossible. My brain feels itchy, and I don't think I should be physically aware of it but I am. I'd really like to be able to write all these lab reports, but doing so is like trying to walk through the 1919 Boston Molasses Flood, and I keep making two and a half steps of progress before having to pull my feet from the sludge so I can sit on a ledge to rest and also try and beat the flies buzzing around my head back with a newspaper
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anyone that's saying that that voice suits yuuta is lying. like Ur mentally colonized mappa is colonizing you you are being gaslighted WAKE UP PEOPLE !!!!!!!!
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got a presentation on thurs... I gotta.... pull my weight & do my part...... uuuggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
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Uuuggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.(--_--) ~angel anon😇
You okay, sweetheart?
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that tao video……i'm gonna cry……….
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Finding scenes not from Folsom Prison Blues that include Dean and the colour orange is so difficult.
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Sometimes I really hate men...not all men, just the creepers who decide to follow me, on my bumper, almost all the way home. I was leaving my boyfriends house, and pulled out onto the road with a car maybe half a block down the way, going the opposite direction. More than enough time and space. Then I started home which is ten minutes away, and this creep, flashed his brights at me and followed me. Mind you halfway home it started to rain. And I was in my jeep, without doors or a top. So im getting wet and frustrated. I then proceeded to pull ahead really far, sped up really fast and turned a corner to a long curved road. From there, around the middle, was a loop that went off from the main road and ended up back on the original straight road. I turned my lights off, all of them and waited for the car to go past before moving again. I hate men who do that. Fucking hate it. Nearly called the police on the fucker. Or led him to the station.
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