It almost seems as though emotions are obsolete in a soulless world. What keeps one tethered to such human traits in a sphere dominated by artificial intelligence. Where things once breathed sincerity, the atmosphere is no longer so kind.
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@toussainiantide66
It almost seems as though emotions are obsolete in a soulless world. What keeps one tethered to such human traits in a sphere dominated by artificial intelligence. Where things once breathed sincerity, the atmosphere is no longer so kind.
People always talk so much smack about others as if y’all are frigging perfect. Newsflash to everybody: you’re nothing special yourself. You are truly no better than anybody else.
I had yet another unholy thought. When god frowned at me for this and I consider all of the bad things that I’ve been through, I just said, “Put it on my tab.”
When the cancerous rage pushes me over the edge and I want to destroy everything.
I wish I knew what the hell to say to people. Being judged before your words come out in such a disgustingly superficial world is a tragedy I feed with rage. One day soon, those against me will have their reckoning.
I need a button to press for someone to slap me before I say something mean, or Think something mean.
Trying to understand women.
Of All The Fiends Out There, I get Targeted For Eternal Punishment.
Me having to choose between rage, anxiety, torment or depression.
When the walls start closing in, I feel like a sin. That’s why so many times I’ve turned to gin. Life, there’s Still dust on my chin. Why don’t you come up and hit me again.
Me after getting angry and counting to ten.
Wish I was never born, then I wouldn’t be filled with scorn. Everything I had has been torn, to the point where I can’t even stand popcorn. The light at the end of the tunnel has been extinguished. All I am is in a bowl as a fish, hoping to hell I can have my wish.
When females play games with you, which is all the time.
My temper rumbling, my rage tumbling. Oh, look, there is Another aggravation. Now I must fight for my sanity’s salvation. Bloodlust is my medication.
When I think about hurting myself.
The unfortunate prospect of another day. All the ghosts in the necropolis are whining that it’s too early to get up.
Insanity closing in. Times squeeze every morsel of logic and sobriety, causing me to see crooked, unable to verify the Truth. Still I see what a ginormous life sentence this existence had handed down to me. I was drowning and nobody wanted to see. Now, here I lie dead.