While reading my Substance Abuse notes, I came across this.
•In 1886, Welsh cyclist died of a combination of opiates & cocaine (speedball) while competing in a cross country race.
Instead of seeing that. I saw
•In 1886, Welsh corgi died of a combination of opiates & cocaine (speedball) while competing in a cross country race.
ROFL…welsh corgi high on drugs! How cute!!
*bumps into trees and goes wti!*
Maybe I’m the one high on drugs.
Last night I dreamt that I woke up to someone who wasn’t you.
She was right.
And I’m not surprised.
I could relate to Savannah in “Dear John” when she said that
she curses in her head.
The same applies to all the things I think of when I get so mad.
How to torture people.
How to cause permanent trauma
Turn them into Agoraphobics/Anthropophobics.
Make them suicidal.
Even when this “Cheena” person added me on twitter,
I was already in a foul mood.
Fish, I wanted to go around slapping people.
And I still do. (ITL)
So what’s stopping me?
Feeling guilty after satisfying my desire.
The heart is indeed deceitful above all things.