A Question Of Sanity
I spend far too much time with the ghosts of my past.
I really need a life.
I really want to take a life.
I can't wait till her toes turn up.
She'll melt into a puddle of diease goopy goo.
I can think of a million other adjectives to discribe her and what she'll become after death, but that is certainly by far the sanest thing to write.
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