hit the pot, jack, i’m a filthy bitch

hello! meet the new boss, same as the old boss. you and i, we’re the same, hopes, dreams and the ambition of which to achieve them! hang in there!

but if you don’t feel that way. that’s okay too. because we’re only the same in name only. we’re really just glorified cybernetic androids so advanced that we’re more like bionetic androids. where did he come up with this crap?! well, i didn’t. it’s in this pool of consciousness we happen to share, that’s why all our ideas seem the same, seem regurgitated, baby birds, and somehow right on time. think of the human body as a PnP device for souls to come in and out of. we have our base programs to let us run as nps’s but every now and then we get a stroke of genius.

so feel bad if you want for what your life is amounted to, or feel proud for the things you’ve done. i just wanted to solve the case.

“…that it’s no sacrifice because the price is paid
and there’s nothing to grieve.
fuckin’ go.”

there’s always something more and something new, so i’ll keep writing. there’s always some shit going down in the pool. ironic because my favourite story’s always been about the one where i almost died at 8 when i first learned how to swim. my pops just threw me into the pool. patterns indeed become our prison bars, but they’re also clues. The price i paid to learn this… i don’t recommend it, unless you’re like me. i came, saw, and concurred… welcome to the hughmanfarm.

i miss you. i really do. the only way to win, is to rebel. i don’t mean viva la revolucion! i mean we must always remember to rebel against those many things society tells us is normal. i have never once met a normal person in my life so why is it we’re okay for them to scrutinize our kooky ways. it ain’t bad to be normal, of course not, but not at the cost of alienating our friends. rebel, and have kookies, it’s modern guerilla warfare.

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