Chat conversation end

L.O.V.E.

It causes me tangible physical pain to type into this box. I have long abandoned the absurdity that no original thought exists. Personally, I can testify that that I have no novel thoughts at all, at least very few. Certainly none of any consequence beyond the scope of my own unconscious grasping for meaning. These certainly have profound meaning for myself at the time, but upon waking reflection possess nothing but hollowness. My first waking minutes are spent groping for ill remembered dreams instead of looking to the day ahead. Longing for something I know I will never recall which moments before made my whole reality. Forgive me for pretending that I am a passive vessel for the mundane experiences I stumble across. I do not exist.

Melon Colic does it for sex(Anytime)

(Sad Face)