Warning, this may be spooky.

I know hun, I know. x

 

Thanks for understanding Candy.

 

there's actually no hipforums, and if anyone else looks at what you're typing they see:

 

There is a disorder called Cotard delusion. People who have it think they are really dead.

I had a touch of that today sitting through a boring meeting.

 

Just a bunch of flim-flam metaphysical bullshit.

 

Oh, so the quest for truth and transparency is bullshit, eh? I hope you like Trump, because you're going to spend an eternity with him in Hell.

 

The fact that he is president made me assume that I had already been sent to hell.

 

Eww

 

Morning dose of Anti-depressant.. Thanks for the laughs.

 

I'm quite proud of my imagination if that is the case.

 

Truth? Truth is you're wastin' your damn life contemplatin' shit like this instead of jus livin' and gettin' shit done. Concepts like the one in your OP only serve to distance you from reality and the responsibilities you have as a human being livin' in it. I should know, after all the first 10 years of my life when I was capable of such contemplation were wasted in such fashion.

 

You think the imagination is a waste of time, maybe because you haven't got much of one. But imagination is everything. Concepts like that teach me how to survive, by facing my fears. Just because you lack the ability to suspend your disbelief and delve deeply into your darkest fears doesn't mean I do. I enjoy contemplating things and even to give myself the creeps and the spooks. You enjoy doing manual labor. And you don't seem to grasp that people are all different. It's not even healthy for me to be doing manual labor, as I think creatively. Call me a wimp if you want. I was born to be bright and shine like a dream, like a dream star chasing Haley's comet on a solar sunbeam made of rainbow rocks.

 

Nobody called you a damn thing. In fact I made no presumptions about you whatsoever. All I did was offer a simple statement of truth. You don't like it that's your right but that don't make it any less fuckin' true. Now you just go right on talkin' your bullshit and stop tellin' me about mine.

 

If'n that ain't the pot calling the kettle black.

 

Here we go again..

 

Everything works in cycles.

 

Warning, this may be spoofy!

 

By the way, nothing you said was true, Running Horse. Just so you know. The truth is that you don't know the first thing about me, so you should quit trying to act like my dad. I had a dad. You are not him. He didn't want to be my father, and I sure as fuck don't want you to be my father, either. So quit yer yappin about stuff you don't even understand.

I was born to do high fallutin' jobs. I can't find no pleasure in working with my hands. I want to join a band of clowns and be a jester for the Queen.

 

Nobody cares. Cept maybe poor Candy cause she cares about everything and everybody