Polkadot

Im not imagining it....im not (denial the first step to lala land)

Well, that's a new one. I've heard of butterflies in your stomach, but a heart fart? That sounds like a medical anomaly, doesn't it? What could have even caused such a thing? The sheer volume of unrequited love I've been harboring? Or maybe my heart just decided to express itself in the most unconventional way possible. Suddenly, all those clichés about the heart being a muscle make sense. It's a muscle alright, a muscle with a digestive system that's clearly out of whack. Maybe I need to give it some probiotics, or perhaps a cleanse. Is there such a thing for it? But the more I think about it, the more I realize that maybe a heart fart isn't such a bad thing. Maybe it's just a sign that my heart is alive, that it's capable of surprise and spontaneity, that it's not afraid to be a little bit… weird. So, yeah, my heart farted. It's embarrassing, it's unconventional, and it's probably not something I should be sharing with strangers on the internet. But hey, at least it's interesting. And in a world that's increasingly bland and predictable, a little bit of heart-related flatulence might be just what i need to shake things up. And im still waiting for it to do it again :) I have to listen to the wisdom of heart and if it has to fart so be it. What else is there to do. It is what it is, huh?

You can't fix it bob it's fucked

I can't even be evil in peace

I have to actively restrain myself from throttling people who are excessively understanding. Like, back off, Mother Teresa, you're making the rest of us look bad! What are you even understanding, huh? The intricate workings of the universe? The profound loneliness of a human being even if he is in fucking crowded room? My questionable fashion choices? What for? You little sunshine-rose-vanilla smelling fussy ball#*#*@ Sometimes I feel like they're just pretending to be understanding to make me feel guilty for being a grumpy little gremlin. Like, 'Oh, I completely understand why you're screaming at the barista for misspelling your name for the fifth time. It's clearly a deep-seated trauma from your childhood' uh no I don't even remember my childhood clearly and stop sending telepathic hugs!!!

I will be like me spoil you then drag you to bookstore bbg

But damn Nucleus Accumbens you are still there (゜-゜)

Status: BOOMSHAKALAKA! Class cancelled? That's not just a Friday, that's a Friday miracle! You are blessed with priceless gift of… time. Time, glorious time! Enough time to binge-watch that terrible reality show you're ashamed to admit you enjoy. Enough time to finally clean out that closet that's become a portal to another dimension. Enough time to contemplate the existential dread of late-stage capitalism while eating an entire pizza. And you've even got Sunday thrown in as a bonus blessing? That's just greedy. That's like finding a twenty-dollar bill in your old coat and then realizing you're also have extra cash that you can burn. Damn it!! Now, here's where things get tricky. Im making a rookie mistake. This is a classic case of 'I'm so happy, I'm actually making terrible decisions.' Im basically a caffeinated hummingbird buzzing around in a sugar rush of freedom. I feel invincible now im might finally crushout

I grew up watching rodrick. Dont expect me to back down

It looks like the bird scissor in over the garden wall....(watch it!)

if you see me walking around with one eye closed, just know that I'm not winking at you, I'm just trying to maintain a semblance of sanity. Or maybe I have a terrible migraine. It's really hard to know

Willing to drown not surf

Fuck ppl who wants fruits but are scared of rain!

To live, not in the answers, but in the pregnant space of not-knowing. And so, we wilt.

It would be beautiful if we can see the world in super slow mode

you wanna lose touch with reality? Forget the shamanic rituals, the mind-altering substances, and the lengthy pilgrimages to remote mountaintops. The simplest, most effective way to unravel your sanity is good old-fashioned sleep deprivation. It's like a fast-track ticket to Crazy Town, population: You. I mean, think about it. Sleep is what keeps us tethered to this mortal coil. It's the nightly reboot that prevents our brains from turning into glitching, error-ridden messes. Without it, we become walking, talking embodiments of the 'This is your brain on drugs' PSA. But here's the irony: while the quickest route to insanity is not sleeping, you, my friend, are out there bed rotting. You're practically marinating in slumber, yet somehow, you're still edging closer to the brink of madness. It's like you're trying to achieve enlightenment through horizontal inaction, hoping that the answers to life's greatest mysteries will magically materialize on your duvet cover. Yes, my brain is short circuiting and fried, my words are slurried as fuck,Micky the mouse is offering a bussiness deal to me,i hear 'shake it to the max' ringing in my head like im not shaken to the max already

So word of advice the world literally looks like a dream if you dont have enough sleep

-voices in my head

It's like trying to solve a Rubik's Cube made of existential dread. You're compelled to keep looking, even though you know you'll never figure it out. So, yeah, I might have spent a significant portion of my day gazing into the depths of your being. But that doesn't mean I suddenly want to braid your hair and whisper sweet nothings while sharing a pint of artisanal ice cream. Nor I do want anything. And definitely doesn't mean, I want to even know you.