But first you must learn how to let them go awry.
Hahahahaha.
I am feeling a little emo today so please forgive me. I realize that most of the words displayed here on this electric cigarette are very angsty and/or nonsensical to most or all who are not me.
Now I just want to be frank with you.
Now, I just want to be frank with you.
Ah, my friends... you are my friends.
My end key's falling off.
I'm not so good at being Frank. If I try to be both the lower-case sense and the Capitalized, I think that may be what is called MPD.
All right, Frankie, I will attempt to langer through this kitten receptacle that I feel I have lost something. I feel I have lost something and on the keyring of that something are keys whose eyes are little vacuums, supposed to transmit to me, but are too far away now. And the little vacuums are draining me of power, power of perception and power of thought and creation. I am slowly transforming into some kind of slug, and I know that something's definitely wrong, but I definitely can't figure it out.
Well, we didn't use it. Who did?
I'm sorry for being so melodramatic about the toilet paper, but I feel I should inform you all that things are going to change.
I'm going to shoot colored balls of light at giant snails in order to indicate my intentions;
I'm going to wander purposefully through this lost-thing induced haze and find my way out into the stormy weather.
I am feeling a little emo today so please forgive me. I realize that most of the words displayed here on this electric cigarette are very angsty and/or nonsensical to most or all who are not me.
Now I just want to be frank with you.
Now, I just want to be frank with you.
Ah, my friends... you are my friends.
My end key's falling off.
I'm not so good at being Frank. If I try to be both the lower-case sense and the Capitalized, I think that may be what is called MPD.
All right, Frankie, I will attempt to langer through this kitten receptacle that I feel I have lost something. I feel I have lost something and on the keyring of that something are keys whose eyes are little vacuums, supposed to transmit to me, but are too far away now. And the little vacuums are draining me of power, power of perception and power of thought and creation. I am slowly transforming into some kind of slug, and I know that something's definitely wrong, but I definitely can't figure it out.
Well, we didn't use it. Who did?
I'm sorry for being so melodramatic about the toilet paper, but I feel I should inform you all that things are going to change.
I'm going to shoot colored balls of light at giant snails in order to indicate my intentions;
I'm going to wander purposefully through this lost-thing induced haze and find my way out into the stormy weather.