Pregnancy Anxiety
I've started my period, so I highly doubt that I'm pregnant, although that could still be a possibility. Luckily I've been dousing my organs in coffee and other poisons. Coffee makes you infertile and almost guarantees a miscarriage. Yay! (I haven't been feeling as insane as usual up until the start of my period, which doesn't quite make sense. I usually am quite volatile before my period--this is not to be mistaken with PMS.) I should probably stop by Panned Parenthood or take a preggers test just to makes sure.
The reality of not being able to control what goes on inside your body is terrifying. It's mission is to ensure pregnancy, while my brain's objective is to avoid it, how funny. It's puts a person in a strange and bizarre position--"going against nature". It's sinister in its inevitability.
This subject is so universal, yet made into some kind of comedy like AIDS or crack. It's pretty evil, if you ask me. But you can't help but feel redundant when experiencing or talking about the subject. They've made you feel this way intentionally. Make these "womanly things" silly, tertiary, because they are the only ones who have "real" experiences (because they've made it that way). They strip you of the importance of woman's corporeal experience (all psychological affects are defective). Well, fuck you.
You don't know what it's like to have your body betray you and to have the consequences of the betrayal effect the rest of your life permanently. Premature ejaculation is a betrayal, but the consequences do not own you (your dick does on the other hand). The dick owes itself to the vagina (mainly, but we can't forget homosexuality). The misconception is to think that you own it because you have a dick. No, it's the other way around, which is why you'll swim through shit to obtain it, which is why your mind is preoccupied by (every achievement is an accolade to the possibility of acquiring pussy). All the time you don't have it (which is a majority of the time) owns you (your thoughts revolve around it). For the seven minutes (or seconds) you have it, you own it, but it is a very short span of time in comparison. Your one triumphant erection dies after ejaculation, useless, flaccid and destroyed--its mission completed. In attempts to give birth, the male creates things and theories (to make himself feel less worthless), but he gives birth to nuclear bombs, to poison and destruction, to death, to pain, to acid and chemicals. His successes are failures (he is incapable of solving his own problems, but is useful for creating new ones to solve). He functions out of boredom and denial of his own uselessness at his core. If he is not actively achieving good, he is truly useless and evil. And the most evil, because he is useless.
The reality of not being able to control what goes on inside your body is terrifying. It's mission is to ensure pregnancy, while my brain's objective is to avoid it, how funny. It's puts a person in a strange and bizarre position--"going against nature". It's sinister in its inevitability.
This subject is so universal, yet made into some kind of comedy like AIDS or crack. It's pretty evil, if you ask me. But you can't help but feel redundant when experiencing or talking about the subject. They've made you feel this way intentionally. Make these "womanly things" silly, tertiary, because they are the only ones who have "real" experiences (because they've made it that way). They strip you of the importance of woman's corporeal experience (all psychological affects are defective). Well, fuck you.
You don't know what it's like to have your body betray you and to have the consequences of the betrayal effect the rest of your life permanently. Premature ejaculation is a betrayal, but the consequences do not own you (your dick does on the other hand). The dick owes itself to the vagina (mainly, but we can't forget homosexuality). The misconception is to think that you own it because you have a dick. No, it's the other way around, which is why you'll swim through shit to obtain it, which is why your mind is preoccupied by (every achievement is an accolade to the possibility of acquiring pussy). All the time you don't have it (which is a majority of the time) owns you (your thoughts revolve around it). For the seven minutes (or seconds) you have it, you own it, but it is a very short span of time in comparison. Your one triumphant erection dies after ejaculation, useless, flaccid and destroyed--its mission completed. In attempts to give birth, the male creates things and theories (to make himself feel less worthless), but he gives birth to nuclear bombs, to poison and destruction, to death, to pain, to acid and chemicals. His successes are failures (he is incapable of solving his own problems, but is useful for creating new ones to solve). He functions out of boredom and denial of his own uselessness at his core. If he is not actively achieving good, he is truly useless and evil. And the most evil, because he is useless.