Hate me because I just gave you cancer.
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Once upon a time, I punched my self so hard it broke.
This is what awaits you after death. There’s a reason, but it’s kind of stupid.
You can’t hide from the world. But you can use it to build a home.
It’s a command, not a fucking dissertation.
It wasn’t I who banished him, but it was I who suffered its effects.
With a sharp, deep intake of breath, she opened her eyes in a place beyond understanding.
What’s the worst that could happen?
This is why I couldn’t work in collections after awhile.
Beware the results of nested parallelism. It’s as recursive a clusterfuck as exists in nature.
