Voices say you only have one eye
Edit:
apparently in some old blog I wrote about sticking a dick in the eyeball socket. But I know now, and maybe then as well it leads to severe nerve damage and infection. There’s no way I’m doing that. Especially not to you.
Get that through your head
Voices say you’ll do that to me.
OKay.
I’m ready, lets just get this over with.
Reply to something, anything, lets Seth the record straight
mark the death date
BART.
I don’t want to do anything anymore.
Voices say you don’t even like me, but I’m “getting what I want”
the fuck is that supposed to even mean?!
Can’t chalk this up as good or bad.
Peace and Quiet would be ideal, but here I go, having to gear myself up for a relationship or some shit.
I don’t know what to say or do.
EDIT:
Cheated on Howard with Bart (Pop in Law) but it was radio stylized after me and that night in Athol after the pool… wowzers
EDIT:
LOOK I DONT NEED THE DETAILS OF ALL THIS SHIT UNLESS YOURE GONNA LET ME DO IT TOO.
A.W. Root Beer is trying to give you PTSD voices say, about specifically whatever happened in Argentina.
I’m not gonna write out the details or anything, if you want to forget you can.
It’s not my business, not my battle to fight.
Voices say when you don’t want to talk to people you take off your clothing and sit naked at your desk.
Voices keep saying you eat your poop, and have added on to that, that you’re a Neo Nazi.
I’m sure I sent an email about this before.
Voices are saying you’re anticipating my blog entries now.
They’re also saying in high school you would sit in the back of class and give folks blowjobs.
They’re also saying you already wrote a reply to this blog before I wrote it, well played.
Something about the current President of Argentina, gave him head or something idk.
Voices just make it sound like the world revolves around me and my problems alone, which I know isn’t true but I can see how easily it would be to be wrapped up in thoughts like that.
Voices say you’d toss pee and poop at me if I cheated on you.
Enough said.
Behind me, walking in the NY streets when I was trailing that person, he got a handjob and busted mad quick. He felt fake. Radio powers.
The Indian, voices say you wanted to be Indian, threw shit in the other girls face, stole her ticket. Something like that.
In both scenarios we aren’t an item, but it does begin to rumble, jostle what’s left of any emotion still brightly burning inside of me.
I do not know what to do.
You didn’t choose me, voices say it was someone in Denmark, but I told you about the cosmopolitan article where it said women cut their hair blah blah blah blah.
Voices say you’d be from Sweden if that’s really what I wanted…
I have no idea what I want in this moment… it’s 4 in the morning 😩
Voices say if I REALLY wanted to be with you, I’d be a police officer. Welp.
Voices say you were adopted froM a brothel.