A Question Of Sanity
2004-07-13, 2:35 p.m.

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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