Monday, April 17, 2017


You can always take pleasure in feeding a dog. The dog ate and is glad. It makes that satisfied sound and looks happy with life.

I'm so sick I might vomit, though. There is so much doubt in my head, like a seed that had been planted germinating... it's scary.

Taking comfort in meaninglessness. I don't think I can do it.

I guess there is big fun, then there is little fun. As ridiculous as it sounds, I haven't found little fun. The big, it comes with responsibility, and oath, and certain burden I must bear. Little fun is supposed to be pure, simple, totally selfish.

I have an idea.

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