blah blah.... blahblahblah
there, i updated...
And it slowly walked down the street, not knowing where it was going. Didn't really care, either. But knowing the destination would at least allow its feeble unconscience to do some work while it forced its legs to step one after another. It seemed as though everything else was moving like the world had pushed a huge FF button on some cosmic VCR. Yet, it was slow, both in mind and body. Blurred shapes, which it guessed were other people, passed by it, going through life. DAMMIT, it fucking wanted to know where it was going!! Every time that subject came up in its mind, it was like a huge bitchslap, and then back to just one-foot-in-front-of-the-other. "Well, all right," it thought, "I'll just keep fucking walking." But that's not all it did. It was being sneaky. Trying to think around that bitchslap, to find some... thing... THERE IT WAS!! It was going to a place. BLAM!! The bitchslap rang out again. It was learning. Don't think of the place that it was going, that started with L, and was going to take an eternity to get to. DON'T. That is how one loses the path. That is how one dies alone. It was times like these that it wished its legs could move a little faster with the burden it carried, or that it had with it a companion to share the journey. It had heard, in dark circles, in dingy rest stops, in grimy, seedy bars, that having a companion helped. But for its kind, that was hard to find. Most would laugh at the idea, or vomit. So on it trudged. And every now and then, when it felt its legs giving out, it would stretch out a hand. Ever so lightly it brushes the distorted ankle of a blur. In that instant, it feels like it is actually feeling for the first time, sensations run through, and are gone in the same instant. Somehow, even the memory of the encounter fades so quickly. But somewhere, deep inside where the bitchslap can't get, it knows. And on goes it.
there, i updated...
And it slowly walked down the street, not knowing where it was going. Didn't really care, either. But knowing the destination would at least allow its feeble unconscience to do some work while it forced its legs to step one after another. It seemed as though everything else was moving like the world had pushed a huge FF button on some cosmic VCR. Yet, it was slow, both in mind and body. Blurred shapes, which it guessed were other people, passed by it, going through life. DAMMIT, it fucking wanted to know where it was going!! Every time that subject came up in its mind, it was like a huge bitchslap, and then back to just one-foot-in-front-of-the-other. "Well, all right," it thought, "I'll just keep fucking walking." But that's not all it did. It was being sneaky. Trying to think around that bitchslap, to find some... thing... THERE IT WAS!! It was going to a place. BLAM!! The bitchslap rang out again. It was learning. Don't think of the place that it was going, that started with L, and was going to take an eternity to get to. DON'T. That is how one loses the path. That is how one dies alone. It was times like these that it wished its legs could move a little faster with the burden it carried, or that it had with it a companion to share the journey. It had heard, in dark circles, in dingy rest stops, in grimy, seedy bars, that having a companion helped. But for its kind, that was hard to find. Most would laugh at the idea, or vomit. So on it trudged. And every now and then, when it felt its legs giving out, it would stretch out a hand. Ever so lightly it brushes the distorted ankle of a blur. In that instant, it feels like it is actually feeling for the first time, sensations run through, and are gone in the same instant. Somehow, even the memory of the encounter fades so quickly. But somewhere, deep inside where the bitchslap can't get, it knows. And on goes it.
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