Dear Diary #0

 I smell so bad. No! I smell good!!! I just like to exercise the fruit of my labors to the highest extent! It’s the jokingly ways that are yelled at me saying “You’re crazy” and “You’re insane”. No, I am not.

With emphasis - can’t you tell. I am merely a “heart-stabbed beef stew stringy..uh”. I don’t know, but my whole system of vocabulary basically describes my brain. I tried to even use a different word there, but my entire-ity sense of “technological status” protruded a “lack of fulfillment”.

Thousands would eat my brain! Thousands! I’m tasty. I certainly would! I have an extremely hard sense of love for myself. I’d **** the **** out of myself. I love myself, and I’m in love with myself. I’m sexy, and I’m dirty! And I like it!

I seem to have created an organized status that consists of “governmentally-approved self-destruction”, and an innate inner ability to get whatever I please. I’m INVINCIBLE.

There’s so many dirty things I would vent to upon on here, but I won’t.

TO BE CONTINUED

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