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I've got about a thousand memories of your dumb little ass and about six of them are pleasant, the rest is annoying garbage!
Get your shit together. Get it all together and put it in a backpack, all your shit, so it's together. And if you gotta take it somewhere, take it somewhere, you know? Take it to the Shit Store and sell it, or put it in a Shit Museum, I don't care what you do, you just gotta get it together. Get your shit together.
Listen, I'm not the nicest guy in the universe because I'm the smartest, and being nice is something stupid people do to hedge their bets.
Aw, man. I really liked this life. Well, at least I didn't really crap my pants.
Whatever you're asking, the answer is I'm amazing.
What, so everyone's supposed to sleep every single night now? You realize that nighttime makes up half of all time?
Yeah sure, I mean, if you spend all day shuffling words around, you can make anything sound bad.
I thought the whole point of having a dog was to feel superior. If I were you I wouldn't pull that thread.
You gotta flip 'em off, I told them it means "peace among worlds", how hilarious is that!
Don't waste your brain on those weirdos... They just put you at the center of their lives because you're powerful, and then because they put you there, they want you to be less powerful.
Okay, well...sometimes science is more art than science. Lot of people don't get that.
Nobody exists on purpose, nobody belongs anywhere, everybody's gonna die. Come watch TV?
if when I was younger someone told me that when I’d be 24, I’d be blogging about how the Pink Ranger from that weird dinosaur robots show my brother is forcing me to watch is a power bottom and the Yellow Ranger is a service top at 1:40am on a Wednesday like it was the most important subject of debate in the world, I’d have probably cried for 10 hours straight
Often when I think of Erik, all I can imagine is one of those jerk-faced cats who like to stare you right in the eye and push your valuables off counters. I like to think the Daroga responds appropriately.
I’ve almost completely gone into autopilot. I watch myself sit in the corner of my room listening to loud, sad music for hours. Not moving. Not speaking. Not checking my phone. And for a while I thought it was healthy. A way for me to meditate. A way for me to recollect. But now that I’m laying on the floor with bloodshot eyes and bandages on my arm; I realize I was sadly mistaken.