I'm very very high.
Indeed I am high to similar extents in which I first got high.
I will now explain the logic behind an argument I have been thinking about for a long, long time.
Most of my days I spend wasting away in front of a grand computer screen, a fat bowl pack, and wondering if I will kill myself eventually. Well that, and thinking about what the common person calls "The Big Questions" in life. The current dream is to buy an acre in Colorado, begin growing, make money, live happily in a small self-built mini-home. Expand slowly. But for now I'm dealing with chronic joint and back pain, as well as Bipolar Type II, Depression, Anxiety. The meds, as you can tell, did not work.
Back to the argument.
I got distracted by Super Star Dust HD because I got it for free a WHILE back.
I really like anal. Like, I wish I could have a little sex slave maid just for that, just to fuck her even if she's busy cleaning my house. That would make me happier.
But never happy.
Happiness, we find so many ways to reach it. Is it something tangible? No, rather, a fleeting, innocent experience one has when faced with the care free, or perhaps liberating moments in life. I could go on but I think too fast for my typing ability, the slowness frustrates me. I can't speak sometimes due to Bipolar, so I walk about "peers", men, women, with speeches, papers, novels, epics…
…swirling about in my head.
Alone with my thoughts, I have found no greater solace, or is it misery? It is the truth. There is no one I can reach out to, no way for me to experience life, is my identity a disease, what my genetics have expressed? Aren't we all a rehashed something? Is nothing truly original, since we all take from what we have seen and innovate, we seek "inspiration", no? Copyright. Such a touchy subject.
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