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Marlboro No. 27

It feels so wrong not filling my voids with the touch of another man. It was always my first instinct. Replace pain, anguish with tactile sensation. The smooth skin of another man as he made love to me was so gratifying, so emptily yet perfectly satisfying. I miss the touch, I miss the adventure, I miss the excitement. But now all I'm left with is nicotine and fleeting satisfaction. I'm trying to find my way back to the higher road, but I can't help but feeling I belong on the lower path. Why do I desire such greatness, yet aspire to destroy my own prospects?

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The Hinterland of my Devotion

Ever since my parents found out about the life I was living behind their backs, things have never been the same. My mother and I have always had a wonderful relationship. I share much of my life with her; I always come to her for advice, as well as comfort. My father however, I can't say the same.

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CVNTLIFE

I feel like I've already named a journal that... oh well. All of you can't get enough of this C V N T L I F E.

So I got ungrounded a few days ago (got in a fight, parents found out about all the sex and smoking and all sorts of inappropriate shit I was doing) and surprisingly I feel fucking worse than when I was grounded. I guess its been kinda hard switching between my pre-grounding craziness to post-grounding life-sucks-shit-iness.

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Juxtapose

I have had a very interesting and fascinating revelation about myself in the past few weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~ COMMENCE VANITY SEQUENCE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Mermaid Motel

Well, I've been gone for quite a bit. Things have definitely changed in my life. Some for the better, some for the worse. I'm still clean, I haven't touched any sort of drug ( I did get drunk one Friday, but I haven't since) and I'm still smoking cigarettes.

The winter here in Texas has been relatively mild, and there's been a lack of constant overcast, which has spared me from my usual winter depression. That is up until now however.

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H@Y qURL

Just thought I'd say hi to Oasis and its constituents. So, yeah.

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A Complete Turnaround

I just got on my old account I used to write on when I was about fifteen. I'm utterly disgusted and disappointed in myself right now. I mean what the hell was I doing? It's all just so... dark. Every word and every punctuation is just bursting at the seams with desperation. Some quotes that really struck me:

"...either way we all die eventually might as well make it come quicker. Bad philosophy? Yes. Should I get clean? Maybe. I'm having too much fun right now."

What fun? Fun coming home fried outta my mind and depressed as shit?

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Take me to church Ms. Waters

Screw him. And screw all 29 times I tried to actually embed this video.

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L-U-X-U-R-Y

I just wanted it to happen, just once. Show me what it really means to feel what really is real. Harmonies and hymns of the angels, strings of pearls falling from the heavenly sky. Color slips away from view, tell me if I'm still breathing. The quartz burns, and the sapphire stings. Take away the abundance and strip me of all I'm worth. Expose me with a sadist sickness and thrust me into the pain I crave. I just wanted more from you, I just wanted more.

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Not to hog up the journal section,

but I've had a personal revelation. I fucking deleted that Grindr account I made only yesterday. You know why? It made me realize how incredibly secure and complete I am as a person. It may sound odd that of all things to draw from it that it would be along those lines, but I truly have. You know what, I'm heavy. I way 220 pounds at 6'0" and I'm fat. I got ripped to shreds on there, everyone fucking telling me to lose weight (ironic being I've lost fucking loads since last year) and to put down the Cheetos.

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Fucking Grindr

Well I just got stood up by some guy I made plans with on Grindr, like a cheap crack whore. But, it is Grindr. In a world of anonymous, cheap fucks, that shit is par for the course. I did however get some ass at around 11 a.m. today, so I can't complain too much. I mean a fuck in the morning? That's some good shit.

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Goddammit!

UGH. I can't fucking emphasize that enough. Its like every time I try to leave this putrid, waste of space suburb its fucking cosmic force field goes to ruin my plans. FUCK.

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Morning Bird

Sorrow is something that is such a precious gift in life, yet it is also one of them most profoundly crippling emotions known. It is something that tears one into two, turning trials of sanity and insanity into a torturous dance, a dance which moves the tides of self-destruction. Yet it is something that can be honestly said is our own; no one else can ever have it, and no one can ever take it from you. It is one of the few things in life that is truly my own.

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Seaweave

If all of you didn't know before, I'm a cunty, black mermaid who parties throughout the eve with all of her sea bitches, and then walks the earth as a white male during the day. I expect that all of you will understand my predicament as a member of mermaidian society marooned in human society and treat me as an equal. This is of course despite the fact that my status as a cunty mermaid puts all of you as inferior to myself.

I honestly have zero idea about what in the flying fuck I'm writing about. I would like to point out that I coined the term seaweave though.

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Vicodin.

I don't even know what to write about, I just feel like fucking splashing all my emotions on some fucking page and just screaming out to the world and shit. I don't know. I fucking hate surgery. All these damn meds are getting me so high.

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