What a waste of words
People are terrified of being possessed, absolutely terrified! Why is that? You can't help it if a demon decides it wants to set up shop inside your body and soul; and I doubt the almighty would hold you accountable in that unlikely scenario. Honestly, I'm more terrified of zombies; the idea of being possessed is actually appealing to me. I think I'd look really cool with one of those freakishly weird faces; floating around and scaring the living crap out of everyone, yelling obscenities. I already do that on a daily basis, but if I were possessed, people wouldn't ask me to stop making a scene; they'd recoil in terror.
Speaking of zombies, I dreamt I became one and actually saw things through their perspective. It was like being unbelievably drunk. My vision was blurry and my entire body felt like it was asleep, which actually kind of sucked; but when I saw a living person, zombie instinct took over and I just had to--HAD TO--eat his skin. I couldn't think, I couldn't speak, I just felt drunk and famished; then I got shot. I get shot all the time in my dreams. Apparently that's a form of self-punishment that I'm unconsciously imposing upon myself.
That's enough for now. I need to get to sleep and prepare for another grueling weekend. I always have such high hopes for the weekend, but every time, they just turn up stagnant. People usually want me to come over and see their cramped, depressing apartments and everytime I do, I'm disappointed. There really is NOTHING for me to do here. I think I might go cheat death somewhere in the badlands. I hate this town.
Speaking of zombies, I dreamt I became one and actually saw things through their perspective. It was like being unbelievably drunk. My vision was blurry and my entire body felt like it was asleep, which actually kind of sucked; but when I saw a living person, zombie instinct took over and I just had to--HAD TO--eat his skin. I couldn't think, I couldn't speak, I just felt drunk and famished; then I got shot. I get shot all the time in my dreams. Apparently that's a form of self-punishment that I'm unconsciously imposing upon myself.
That's enough for now. I need to get to sleep and prepare for another grueling weekend. I always have such high hopes for the weekend, but every time, they just turn up stagnant. People usually want me to come over and see their cramped, depressing apartments and everytime I do, I'm disappointed. There really is NOTHING for me to do here. I think I might go cheat death somewhere in the badlands. I hate this town.