1. grownups are so desperate for romance. Is that a kinda of escapism from adulthood? What's the difference between a 17-year old and a 42? That desire for love and its innocence never age, only worsens if ever. But it's the ability to recover that evolves when we grow older. We don't linger and self-loathe that much. But does healing quicker means loving the otherwise?
2. I myself am so intrigued and disgusted by male organ too.
3. The intellectuals are somehow against the intellectualism of this society because they are never satiated enough or properly. You find yourself intellectual helpless swamped in there, somewhere between the deafening orchestra and the dead-silent end of the city where the subway roars over your apartment and keeps you awake for ideas at night.
4. And they so want to go back, picking up innocence after they've abandoned it, chasing after youth when they age, supporting all kinds of junk they used to publicly condemn. Just grow out of it for fumonaghancks sake.
5. This kind of fake illusion of grandeur is so ironic oh my god! Manhattan is a dumpster and life is a black beaky cup you have to snap your neck off for water. Youth is not the solution, nor is love of anybody else, nor is quaintness to any extent. Put out that ray of illusory hope for it's not even that practical. It's like the Americans are marching toward a better tomorrow in their fancy expensive cars and in pursuit of delicate dinner up in Beverly hill or can trap park or something. Fumonaghanck promiscuity, fumonaghanck prude, fumonaghanck one-night fling, fumonaghanck this obsessive control over love and emotions and feelings. You are literally perfecting the art of ironical egoism.
6. This makes me so nauseated and angry and unsatisfactory over a series of fumonaghancked people and these fumonaghancked up things they do. Watching a man corrupt and realizing he has always been corrupted and this one-time corruption couldn't possibly do any further harm is exhausting.
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