Le Quack says Le Duck.

I was simply not wired for the nitty grittyness of society. It was simple with drinking, I drank and them and their weird tendencies slowly faded. I burned bridges like crazy. I was effectively, a serial bridge burner. An arsonist of the social variety. I think it is alright though, these were class C people anyway, perhaps this was good stomping grounds to gather preparedness for the class A people of a further down the line life. Alls I know is that new age-dy girls from commonwealth states were not exactly lining up to get to know me.

Not her though. She with her name, which for some reason had the same letter repeated twice in the beginning. She was a class A individual for sure. Witty and pretty. Jealous, but I will forever find that sort of thing awkwardly irresistible. In that, society deems it a total taboo that I should get all aroused over someone being so protective of my like, but I am whos I be am.

There was a time, and then you know, there was a time. Now was not that time. Frankly, then was not that time either but you force what pieces you can into the slots forced on you.

Social surgery of the variety that says, time to take a knife to certain people in your life, because qualities of theirs disgust you. There was one nice scorpio girl I would definitely show up to the birthday of. But it was two weeks away, and before that I would morph into a repulsive reclusive and finish with my various government ordered responsibilities.

There’s a guy I know named Frank, Fuck him. Fuck Frank, figuratively speaking of course. For I would not Fuck Frank if I were a female even. Females don’t Fuck Frank by the Seashore.

Hey little water droplet, why aren’t you dropping. Forming micro-cultures and shet? Yes sir, tiny worlds of culture, where a different form of art will be formed and things will be forever wet.

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