it's making me really hard uncomfortable. who is our HR delegate, I have a complaint. (unrelated)
oh ho ho ho
look at you now my sweet pumpkin puddin, just look at you. sitting there, reading this, becoming more and more filled with insatiable lust every second. and WISHING, just wishing, you could give yourself to me in the most minute way.
BUT NO. no no no. I must not allow it. I am too good a man.
the foolish little girl pretends to disregard me, and yet you sit there and read this, and think of me, and continue to think of me throughout your dull dull day, hoping beyond hope that such an inspirational and passionate fella such as me would come in and swoop you off your leaden feet.
this, I'm afraid, is not in the least possible no matter how much you cry or beg at my feet.
you have allowed the fantasy of me to manifest itself too deep within your mind, welcomed it, nurtured it, because it is the only wild and free thing you have known for a long while. and that's all a silly girl like you wants, is to be wild and free. you are not.
the thought of me has caged you, has caged your mind, has reminded you of what life could have been like uninhibited by the very life you have chosen. no matter how much you desperately wish to return to that wonderful time and again choose to live life wonderfully you cannot, and your wretched choice of what you are will forever stand.
and now my memory will forever stand, and it will drive you mad with emotion, and I will not be there to comfort you
oh ho ho ho
look at you now my sweet pumpkin puddin, just look at you. sitting there, reading this, becoming more and more filled with insatiable lust every second. and WISHING, just wishing, you could give yourself to me in the most minute way.
BUT NO. no no no. I must not allow it. I am too good a man.
the foolish little girl pretends to disregard me, and yet you sit there and read this, and think of me, and continue to think of me throughout your dull dull day, hoping beyond hope that such an inspirational and passionate fella such as me would come in and swoop you off your leaden feet.
this, I'm afraid, is not in the least possible no matter how much you cry or beg at my feet.
you have allowed the fantasy of me to manifest itself too deep within your mind, welcomed it, nurtured it, because it is the only wild and free thing you have known for a long while. and that's all a silly girl like you wants, is to be wild and free. you are not.
the thought of me has caged you, has caged your mind, has reminded you of what life could have been like uninhibited by the very life you have chosen. no matter how much you desperately wish to return to that wonderful time and again choose to live life wonderfully you cannot, and your wretched choice of what you are will forever stand.
and now my memory will forever stand, and it will drive you mad with emotion, and I will not be there to comfort you
The thing is, you are not a bull. No matter how often you choose to apply that appellation to yourself, it will not stand.
Overbearing confidence is a poor shield when someone having a decent snapkick decides you'd sound better with a crushed larynx.
I'm done.
no further participations from my end.