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Ruled.Everything about me
is ruled by emotions
Everything is ruled by emotions.
I'm numb, I'm homesick,
I'm depressed, I'm happy.
I dont fucking care anymore.
Every single fucking thing is based
off of how I'm feeling or even thinking sometimes.
Everythign is motivated by how i'm feeling,
or rather how much any of them are willing
to push at me. To prod at me,
to try and get me to cry,
or laugh, or even feel anything.
I need to be numb because
i'm on overload.
Everything, the very littlest thing, now,
puts me to tears.
Every fucking thing.
I'm tired of this.
la Vie Boheme"To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing
The need to express, to communicate
To going against the grain, going insane, going mad
To loving tension, no pension, to more than one dimension
To starving for attention hating convention, hating pretension
Not to mention of course hating dear old mom and dad
To riding your bike midday past the three piece suits
To fruits, to no absolutes
To Absolute, to choice, to the Village Voice
To any passing fad"
"To being an us' for once
Instead of a them'
La vie boheme
La vie boheme"
"Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion
Creation, vacation, mucho masturbation
Compassion, to fashion, to passion when it's new
To Sontag, to Sondheim, to anything taboo
Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunningham and Cage
Lenny Bruce, Langston Hughes, to the stage
To Uta, to Buddha, Pablo Neruda, too
Why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow
To blow off auntie Em
La vie boheme"
"Bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens
Carcinogens, hallucinogens, men, Pee We
ANOTHER CLEVERBOT CONVOMe: Cleverbot, are you male or female?
Me: Are you in a relationship with Zack Lee?
Me: Then are you in a relationship with Pewdiepie? He's single and hot.
HOLY SHIT! CLEVERBOT LOVES YHU PEWDY!
CLEVEBOT CONVOME: Will you ever become a bro?
Me: That sucks. Do you even know who Pewdiepie is?
Cleverbot: Yes, an elf.
Me: Pewdiepie is not an elf.
O.O i got weirded out. O.O Cleverbot.
CANT DO SHIT BRAH.do you think you can turn circles in the rain?
do you think you can make the rain stop?
do you think you can make it snow?
do you think you're better than me?
WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG.
You cant do shit brah.
I'll make you disappear faster than you can blink.
Gone, Poof, Translucent, Dead.
I'll make you feel my pain.
I'll make you see what i do everyday.
I'll make you go through my pain for just a day.
Then maybe you'll think twice before you speak to me.
I'm Not Who You Wanti dont think i want to be saved
I dont think i'm pretty
I dont think i'm skinny
I dont think i'm smart
I dont think i'm creative
I dont think i'm fun
I dont think i'm nice
I dont think i'm going to be here much longer
I dont think i'm ever going to be better
I dont think i can be your stereotype you want me to be.
I'm not the emo chick who self-harms, I'm a semi-happy girl who has an addiction.
I'm not the goth girl who doesnt know shit, I'm the girl who takes pride in wearing black and knows every song by PATD, BOTDF, and ATL by heart and would sing it to you if you asked.
I'm not the mentally disturbed child who like trouble, I'm a proud fighter and has a few quirks.
I'm sorry I'm not who you want me to be, SO YOU CAN LICK MY VAGINA.
FUCK YOU. GO FUCKING DIE IN A HOLE BITCH. I DONT CARE ANYMORE. FUCK OFF.
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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