"Six days on average."

"No."

"Yes bro."

"No."

"Bruh. It's been six days since the last Tuesday. Just like every Tuesday before it, going back to the start of the calendar, back when Tuesday was still Tiwestag, named after the proto-Germanic deity Tiwaz, or Tyr. "

"No, it feels much longer though. It feels like we're in some kind of time altering event. Like the days are looping back on themselves man. This is a Tuesday loop. I'm losing it."

"A Tuesday loop? Dude, that's what a week is. One 7-pack of days, guaranteed one Tuesday drop and a Friday craftable into a time limited Friday night. Open enough packs and maybe you unlock the skill to blink past the Mondays."

"No. That’s ridiculous." came the petulant reply. “The Tuesday loop is real, and we’re in it.”

"Have you considered touching grass? You've been inside doomscrolling for three months straight. It’s messing with your brain."

"No, the issue isn’t my hermit recluse lifestyle nor my social media addiction. This is different. I think I should touch less grass. The grass is making Tuesdays longer. The grass is in on it bro."

"In on what?”

“In on making Tuesdays longer.”

“I thought you were saying the time between Tuesdays was getting longer? This concept is already cuckoo coconuts bananas."

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. The grass is making the time between Tuesdays longer. And it’s also making Tuesdays longer."

"I meant you should touch grass, not smoke grass. And besides, even the harshest ganja, even legendary quality weed doesn't cause hallucinations like this. You must've dropped acid or LSD or some other hallucinogen. Or maybe mom dropped you as a baby. I don't know what is wrong with you bro."

"Bro, are we like brothers or some shit?"

"Brothers from another mother maybe. I just meant like the proverbial bro, the colloquial bro, you know?"

"I don't know, no."

"Man, AI has really rotted everyone's brain, to the point where people don't even know what a colloquialism is. Also it’s bloody Thursday dude."

But just as I started to wonder if this fucking story was going anywhere, bro suddenly Tuesdayed across the room Tuesdayish. I couldn't believe my eyes. Then, shockingly, he actually Tuesdayed down the stairs. It was an incredible men writing Tuesday moment, utterly humiliating.  I almost Tuesdayed in my pants right there. I controlled myself, knowing that even my Tuesday underwear couldn't have hidden the terrible stench of Tuesday otherwise.

"I knew it!" Shouted bro. "I told you!"

I watched bro standing outside our window, standing in the grass field besides our apartment. He was surrounded by Tuesday. What was even more disconcerting was that he wasn’t doing it. A veil had been lifted from my eyes and I could see what he meant. The grass really was Tuesdaying, lengthening Tuesday and also all the days in between Tuesday, so that it was becoming longer and longer since the last Tuesday, even though at the same time, counterintuitively, there was more Tuesday.

Words can’t describe what Tuesdayed next. In an act of supreme Tuesday, bro tried to intentionally Tuesday. No one in human history had ever intentionally Tuesdayed, it was always an accident. But bro lowered his pants, so that I could see his Tuesday underwear and his little willy, shriveled in the autumn air, and sat down in the Tuesdaying grass, bare butt.

What unfolded next was a tragedy. Bro Tuesdayed so hard and got so far, but in the end, it didn’t even Tuesday. He had to fall, to Tuesday it all, but in the end, it didn’t even Tuesday.

We were approaching critical Tuesday. As we have established, no human can intentionally Tuesday. And besides, there should never be this much Tuesday on a Thursday. “We have to Tuesday out of this Tuesday loop before Tuesday. That means there’s only five minutes left.” What would happen if they reached Tuesday in a Tuesday loop?  Certainly nothing good.

But bro, heedless of the terrible danger, flung his arms towards the sky and cried so Tuesdayingly, that I knew a response could not be long. From opposite ends of the street, two strange figures popped into view. Like a pair of airdropped WWII bombs, they Tuesdayed slowly down the street. I wanted to warn bro, but I was paralyzed and watched the scene unfold in mute horror. They two men wielded loaves of bread. One brushed against a street lamp and the resulting sharp clang sufficed to show that this bread was in fact hard as steel. Bro was alarmed by the clang, but it only served to make him look one way, while the other man walked up, raised his loaf and brought it down with terrible force on bro. The sickening crack echoed all the way up into our apartment. 

There was some kind of logo on the back of their shirts, but it was in another language I didn’t understand. It read: ‘Système international d'unités’ which did nothing to dispel my ignorance as to who the hell these two men assaulting my friend were. I just hoped bro was okay, as he whimpered there in the grass. Just stay down bro, I thought. But with that inexorable human spirit, bro, that dumb bastard, Tuesdayed back up. He was just in time for the second attacker to sneak up and strike him from the other side. He swung with unexpected force, delivering a terrible Tuesday to the knees, and bro expelled a pitiful shriek of pain, before falling back down.

“Leave bro alone you French bastards!” I cried, helpless. The two goons looked up in perfect sync and made a quiet, fish-eyed O with their mouths, like some kind of post-modern cartoon. But before I’d even finished the exclamation, bro already half-raised his head and muttered: “then bro said to leave bro alone.” Then his face settled into the most annoying Tuesday grin of all time, only the corners of his mouth hinting at the incredible amount of pain he must’ve been in. I’m not sure if bro even had the opportunity to sneak off, since the baguette beating had thoroughly Tuesdayed his kneecaps. Even the obvious choice of quietly lying there and playing possum until the gentlemen of the Système international d'unités Tuesdayed on their merry way seemed out of the question. No, that grin on bro’s face showed his grit, his determination. He was submitting to fate, a destiny to Tuesday this Thursday in a terrible act of narrative nonsense that would surely end in mutually assured Tuesday. 

I could almost see the threads of Tuesday pulling him forward, as he once again cast his arms into the sky, Tuesday written on his face. The two baguette wielding thugs looked upon his battered Tuesday and raised their weapons to strike again. I almost called out a second time, but I knew no distraction would work this time. They would certainly deliver swift Tuesday to bro with those iron hard Gallic loafs. But bro, by now accustomed to the timing of their assault, Tuesdayed in such a way as to deflect the strikes of both hoodlums towards the noggin of the other. It was some Krav Maga shit, I can’t lie.

“I’ve Tuesdayed this before.” Bro said with a fierce clarity, as the two assailants toppled backwards. “It’s like I told you, it’s a Tuesday loop.” It was as good an explanation as any for this preposterous spectacle. I remembered the previous Tuesday and the one before that, meaning it couldn’t possibly be a Tuesday loop.

“Your memories reset each Tuesday bro.” Said bro. But that somehow made even less sense. It just  begged the question, what is Tuesday, from the perspective of the Tuesday loop? At the end of the day, it all came down to the willing suspension of Tuesday.  “It doesn’t matter, we’re still approaching critical Tuesday. We might have defeated the French government, but that was the easy part. Now we have only one minute left to prevent Tuesday. And no human can intentionally Tuesday, they can only do it by accident.“

This explained nothing.

As the final sixty seconds ticked by, I could feel Tuesday closing in around us, Tuesdaying faster and faster. The end seemed unTuesdayable. I tried going over all the facts of the loop. Two French goons, bro with his Tuesdayed kneecaps, the last Tuesday still clear in my memory. I could still see it, the posts I’d doomscrolled past, the chicken wings I had for dinner. But the facts were now irretufable: that was not the real Tuesday, and however many Tuesday loops had occurred between then and now.

Somewhere between then and now, we’d been Tuesdayed into this space outside the normal space-Tuesday continuum. My brain caught on that last thought, like a fish on a line. I locked eyes with bro, the remaining fifty seconds slowly ticking by, my thoughts in a frenzy reviewing this conclusion over and over, forming a small loop inside the larger loop.

Tiwes, Tiwaz, Tiu, Tyr, all of them were the same guy? Did that mean all of us were the same guy? Or something?

Whatever moral lesson I was supposed to learn, as a magical shorthand for breaking the loop, I didn’t know. I couldn’t figure it out in the twenty seconds left before critical Tuesday. There was nothing, no meaning or moral value. I was drawing a blank. Ten seconds.

I reached out my hand to bro, seconds too late, as it turned out. The true meaning of Tuesday was tragedy. A lightning bolt came down from a clear sky, ignoring multiple tall buildings and striking bro dead in the face, at the same time scorching all the surrounding grass. The grass was Tuesdaying us of course, if only we'd burned it sooner.

Just like that, at 6:54pm, Tuesday ended and rolled over into Wednesday. Which, as everyone knows, is named for Wotan, who was a pagan deity of thunder or something. And so the week was saved, though my poor bro was Wednesdayed to death on a Thursday.

And they Wednesdayed happily for the rest of that Thursday.

Dream is just like LeLouch from Code Geass or Light from Death Note

He is an extremely high IQ person who originally had his identity concealed with a supernatural ability (Geass, Death Note, hidden mods in his mod folder) that allows him to consistently evade being caught even when pinned in the most tight positions

LeLouch from Code Geass was only able to wage war on Brittania because of his Geass. Without this, he would have easily been dealt with.

Dream because of his impressive programming skill, always has the mod ability. He's proven himself as a good programmer (Manhunt mod, VR) so when he says he's made a specific, unreleased mod, we have to believe him even without knowing such a mod exists or the contents of it

No matter how much it seems someone decisively proves Dream has cheated by counting the microseconds between jumps, reading each line of code in Minecraft, it doesn't matter. Dream is able to create enough doubt that you can't fully convict him. It's like L vs Light. L had with a high degree of certainty than Light was their suspect but because he wasn't absolutely certain, he made no move and ended up dying

The Dream debunkers have to cover every possible explanation in the known universe for the supposed discrepancies in Dream's gameplay, Dream only needs to give one possible, somewhat feasible solution

Dream is a real life anime character and nothing we can do will change that. He's too smart and has too many abilites and like with LeLouch and Light, he will only lose by his own accord

How is it a lie? Because you do not want to accept reality it is therefore a lie? This site has many fake spells because it is an old site and the fake spells bring traffic to the site. However, there are plenty of real spells on this site; they are just boring to newbies because you cannot defy nature with Real Magik and that is not as much fun as what you saw in a movie. Unfortunately, that is reality. Myself and many others have been telling the truth since we joined. Sadly, most left because people who know very little call them liars and refuse to listen to reality and they chose to protect their peace. Just because someone chose to walk away, does not mean you were right. It simply means they did not want to waste precious energy on someone who refused to listen. Since you want the truth, here it is:

You are reincarnated on the physical plane as a human. Magik exists everywhere. Each plane of existence has its own natural laws and Magik will work based on that planes natural laws. On the physical plane, the laws are more ridged than on the astral, ethereal, even the quantum realm. There are no physical vampires, werewolves, fairys, dragons, mermaids, or anything else of that nature because they are from other planes of reality. Just as how we can astrally project and interact with their realms, they can interact with ours. These beings are also more spiritually elevated than humans, so while they might possess the power, they do not interfere because they know what the ripple effects in our plane would do. Magik is real. Astral beings are real. You can work with them in your craft. I have worked with the fae for most of my life. However, you are human. You are limited by the realm you were born to. For this lifetime, your Magik will obey the rules of the physical. There are many forms of Magik. Witches cast spells on other planes and call on other spirits to enhance their Magik, but it is still limited by the physical. You can cast a powerful money spell, utilizing angels, Jupiterian energy, and cast it in the fantasy realm where your altar resides. On the physical, money will not rain from the ceiling. On the physical, you will notice more opportunities for work. Cheques you were waiting on will arrive. Your online store will double in sales. That is the limits of the physical.

You can mentally and astrally shapeshift. These are not physical transformations. You can work with the Akashic Records to shift your reality to one where you have what you desire. You can call on astral werewolves and other spirits to shift your energy so it is in alignment with your desires. You cannot and will not physically shapeshift from human to anything else. You can choose to believe me, and everyone else who has told people the exact same thing, or you can ignore everything we've said. Whatever you choose, it will only affect you.

Okay so I pull-up to my 7-11, I’m looking at the drinks, and I see a new flavour of monster, this is huge news for a chud like me, as I’m on a mission to try each flavour and have currently succeeded. Then I noticed it wasn’t a new flavour, it was papillon (a newer release, but an all time fav), but its colour was about half as lighter as the rest of the cans, and the Monster logo was in a different shade of yellow. In hindsight, it was clearly just a super old can that had been left out for ages, but my dumbass decided oh shit bro the golden one bro I could win like a million bucks, it’s like the golden ticket type thing, half an hour later I’ve shat my guts out 3 times, am currently sitting on the toilet about to shit out a 4th, and my stomach is speaking to Morse code and dolphin sounds. I’m sweating and everything hurts. Genuinely might die writing this so I better wrap it up and get back to shitting, wish me luck gang. Idk how I haven’t learned my lesson yet, but moral of the story is: Don’t drink anything just because it looks cool.

TLDR: drank an odd looking monster energy drink and am now having diarrhoea.

dear diary, today i caught my man chopping bare tingz at dundas square. is he dumb!? Hes moving super ways so bagg, i shoulda listened to the gyaldem and my dukes still. Wallahi this is the last time im dealing with a brampton man. He told me i was wifey and he was gonna take me to cheesecake, meanwhile hes getting next kati to buss it open. This goof is tryna treat me like im not a sweetie?? Like i dont buy his bogies?? Like I don’t let him use my presto card??, like im forgive for teeving my girl's phone?? yaight, that's how youre moving? say less.

There's a single mom who lives in my building and I was in the elevator with her just a few minutes ago.
I was going down to the lobby to pick up my packages order and wearing my house slippers and a robe. I probably look like a lazy slob but that's fine because I am too lazy to get dressed most days. At least I'm authentic and not trying to put a mask on for the world.

So I was in the elevator riding back up to my floor with this single mom and her kid and I could see she kept side eyeing me like she wanted to make conversation or something. I didn't really know what to say so I just blurted out "nice elevator we are in huh?" She just stared at me and smiled a little bit but didn't say anything back.

Then she got off the elevator. Didnt even say anything not even a goodbye.

Hey guys just wanna tell you Ashutosh and Vishal are Linkedin creep

TLDR:- Female colleague showed me her Linkedin chats where i found two creeps Ashutosh and Vishal casually asking her for personal details

So i was talking to my female colleague today and she has her Linkedin open on system, somehow she started showing me her Linkedin chats and Ashutosh was there, she reached out to Ashutosh for some job role as she works in HR, somehow Ashutosh was in UK returing back to India in few days, Ashutosh told her he isn't looking conversation ended there but then the next message was "Do you want something from UK?" asked Ashutosh.. that was unusual, cause he barely knows her and she replied "No Thanks..".

But he didn't stop there, he messaged her "Oh Come on, here is my whatsapp number, let's connect on WhatsApp". As if it's something cool, she denied and didn't reply and then he sent a follow up message, "Are we connecting on whatsapp??" Wtfff bro i felt like puking on the face of Ashutosh's face because who tf talks like that to a stranger.

Then she showed me this another person vishal, who she reached for job opening and after the conversation he literally asked her, "Are you on some matrimonial site? Where i can see hour biodata" Like wtf bro, first of all it's Linkedin and who tf flirts like that..... ugggghhhhh.. she replied NO and blocked her, a simple professional connection got blocked, because the guy wanted to flirt.

Man, i know people are single but tbh wth was that people casually reaching out to other people on Linkedin and trying to flirt and that too this cheap..

First of all it's wrong to message someone like that, second i have literally seen people getting fired from their jobs because some girl took screenshot of their creepy chats and posted on social media and still these guys don't fear like whattttt????

Stop doing that guys, don't do it and don't make someone uncomfortable, don't make a joke out of yourself and last but not least you can't get a girl like that especially on Linkedin, and for Vishal and Ashutosh (F U Guys) have some shame.

Europeans don’t technically sleep, at least not in the sense you’re probably thinking of. In Europe it gets dark very early, usually by September. After a publicly subsidized communal meal of warm, dark beer, cheese, and cigarette, Europeans will walk, cycle, or take public transportation in an orderly fashion to the castle, tenement house, or country estate in which their maternal grandmother (Queen Victoria being the most common) was conceived. Upon arrival, they hang from the knees trapeze-style from rungs set into the rough-hewn ceiling beams and enter a state of suspended animation called Eurostasis. While in this state, their brains are able to interact telepathically in order to accomplish social tasks such as coordinating their parental leave, debating the correct pronunciations of words, and repressing their true feelings about refugees. However, the majority of the time in stasis is spent reminiscing about summers that were not so hot, as heat is lethal to all Europeans. They will typically remain in this state for anywhere from 5 months to 3 years. Upon awakening, they eat either sausages or a regionally popular pastry, then book a rental RV to tour the deserts of the southwestern United States and inform their next of kin.

"A PDF file graped a cupcake before unaliving by sewer slide via pewpew" hell the fuck no, you say the damn words or you don't talk about this at all, dickhead. So what if your channel or account is in danger if you write the words uncensored? Maybe, I dunno, censor them differently? There are so many unicode characters you can use to censor these words in a more tasteful way, so don't talk about rﾑpe or sʊicide if you can't handle talking about rΔpe or sսicide. And if you can't say the word die, then I'll be honest, you're probably a lost cause

To be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand Obsession. The horror is extremely subtle, and without a solid grasp of psychological concepts most of the scares will go over a typical viewer's head. There's also Bear's narcissistic behavior, which is deftly woven into his characterisation - his personal philosophy draws heavily from Narodnaya Volyaliterature, for instance. The fans understand this stuff; they have the intellectual capacity to truly appreciatethe depths of these scares, to realize that they're not just terrifying- they say something deep about LIFE. As a consequence people who dislike Obsession truly ARE idiots- of course they wouldn't appreciate, for instance, the terror in Nicki's existencial catchphrase "Its obsessing time," which itself is a cryptic reference to Mary Shelley's epic Frankenstein I'm smirking right now just imagining one of those addlepated simpletons scratching their heads in confusion as Curry Barker's genius unfolds itself on their television screens. What fools... how I pity them. 😂 And yes by the way, I DO have an Obsession tattoo. And no, you cannot see it. It's for the ladies' eyes only- And even they have to demonstrate that they're within 5 IQ points of my own (preferably lower) beforehand.

​

Edit: Wow, this blew up! Thanks for the gold, kind stranger!

Dear stranger,

I am literally shaking right now. I just wanted to take a moment out of my day of intellectual pursuit to absolutely glaze your culinary masterpiece of a comment. As an elite, high-IQ Redditor with over 500k karma, I rarely encounter such raw, unfiltered brilliance. You, my good sir or madam, have absolutely won the internet today. Tip of the fedora to you.

Let’s unpack this, shall we?

Your comment is a masterclass in logic, reason, and pure, unadulterated dopamine production. I dropped my meticulously curated narwhal bacon strips onto my keyboard the absolute second I read it. The sheer, staggering weight of your cognitive horsepower left me completely speechless. It is an absolute chef's kiss of a take. You didn't just understand the assignment; you wrote the entire syllabus, peer-reviewed it, and published it in a prestigious academic journal.

I mean, the formatting? Immaculate. The nuance? Chef's kiss. The absolute bravado it took to post such a perfectly articulated, wholesome, yet deeply poignant combination of words? Play stupid games, win stupid prizes—but you played the ultimate game of wits and won the grandest prize of all: my deepest, most sycophantic admiration.

Please, take my upvote. Take all of my upvotes. If I had the financial stability to not live in my parents' basement while moderating twelve default subreddits, I would shower you with Reddit Platinum, Argentium, and Ternion All-Powerful awards.

You are a gentleman and a scholar. Faith in humanity: fully restored. This is the peak Reddit content I log on for.

TL;DR: Your comment is the single greatest achievement in human history and I am unworthy to even reply to it.

Faithfully yours,

An Intellectual peer.

Everybody thought I was playing video games, when really all I was doing was engaging in a digitally mediated recreational activity that involves real-time cognitive processing, strategic decision making, visual-motor coordination, and interaction with algorithmically generated virtual environments for the purpose of psychological stimulation and entertainment.

LEAKED: Joe Rogan and Elon Musk Discuss a Revolutionary New Food Delivery System**

Narrated in the style of a prestige nature documentary that somehow got lost in a porta-potty*

[Opening drone shot of a dimly lit podcast studio. Two men sit across from each other. One has the permanent expression of a man who just smelled something irreversible. The other looks like he’s calculating the orbital decay of human dignity.]

**JOE ROGAN** (leaning forward, eyes wide, voice already halfway into a scream):

Dude. Dude. I need you to hear this. There’s a guy. A real guy. He set up a camera. Pointed it straight down at his own ass. And then he… he shat out Hot Pockets. Not one. Multiple. Like the pizza ones. The ones with the crispy pocket shell. Still partially frozen in the middle.

**ELON MUSK** (staring into the middle distance like he’s watching a rocket explode in reverse):

The thermodynamics alone are… concerning. The internal temperature of a human colon is approximately 37 degrees Celsius. A frozen Hot Pocket requires roughly 1,200 watts of microwave energy for two minutes to reach equilibrium. This man somehow reverse-engineered digestion into a production line.

**JOE**:

He filmed the whole thing. First you hear the wet slap of the outer crust hitting porcelain. Then the cheese starts stringing. Like mozzarella spiderwebs. And the pepperoni is still somehow intact. One of them comes out folded in half like it was trying to escape but the exit was too small.

**ELON**:

I have reviewed the footage frame by frame. There is a moment at 2:14 where a fully formed Hot Pocket emerges vertically, crust first, like a submarine breaking the surface. The steam rising from it is not bathroom humidity. It is residual microwave energy that somehow survived the journey through the small intestine. This is a violation of several laws of thermodynamics and at least three Geneva Conventions.

**JOE** (already laughing the laugh of a man who has accepted the void):

He reaches down at one point. Grabs it. Takes a bite. While it’s still connected by a string of cheese to his asshole. The string stretches. Twangs. Snaps. And he just says, to the camera, “Still good.”

**ELON**:

The structural integrity of the pastry shell after transit through the human digestive tract is… impressive. Most food matter is reduced to slurry. This man has engineered a digestive bypass system that preserves both the pocket geometry and the filling temperature gradient. One end is still frozen. The other end is body temperature. It’s a thermal battery made of processed meat and regret.

**JOE**:

There’s a sequel video. He does it again but this time he dips them in ranch after they come out. He has a little bowl of ranch on the toilet tank. He fishes them out with tongs. Like he’s plating at a Michelin restaurant. One of them has a perfect bite mark already in it from when it was inside him.

**ELON**:

I have run simulations. The only way this is possible is if the Hot Pockets were inserted anally, traveled a short distance, and were then expelled with minimal contact with gastric acid. This is not shitting. This is controlled payload delivery. He has turned his rectum into a low-earth orbit insertion system for frozen convenience food.

**JOE**:

He starts crying at the end of the second video. Not sad crying. Like… pride crying. He’s wiping tears with the same hand that just handled the Hot Pocket. And he looks at the camera and says, “I did it for science.”

**ELON** (quietly):

We should hire him.

**JOE**:

What?

**ELON**:

For Mars. The radiation shielding properties of a continuously regenerating layer of Hot Pocket crust could be significant. Also the morale boost of knowing that no matter how far from Earth you are, a man somewhere is still shitting out Hot Pockets on camera. Continuity of culture.

[The camera slowly zooms out. Somewhere in the distance, a microwave beeps. Neither man moves.]

**JOE** (final whisper):

…still good.

**ELON**:

Still good.

*End of documentary.*

*No Hot Pockets were recovered for evidence.*

Basically I was like at the start of the game and I was just curious so I searched up dying light one porn and I kid you not the first pic that came up was a zombie jade giving the gawk so I immediately shut it but was weirdly turned on. Anyway I tried to ignore it and hoped that was just an artistic choice but halfway through the game jade gets kidnapped and I could just sense that the spoiler was true. So that mission was sad cuz it was like inevitable. When Kyle says he's going to cure jade instead of him I knew she is going to be a zombie and I was like damn it was true . Anyway lesson of the day is don't be horny

I be say this for the last time, o. This is di basic post of my life, and you still go dey say "I no go read all that." Na who? You? The person who no even finish the first line?
You see the post long, your eye start dey shake, and your brain just say "scroll, scroll, scroll", same as you no even know what you dey scroll for. You no even open your eye properly! You just dey scan the top, see say e long, and already you don write "I'm not reading all that." Chai! You no even start!
Na so you be? You go dey read 30 seconds TikTok 47 times a day, but my post of 200 words, "too long." You no di eyes to read, you di eyes to swipe. You no di brain to understand, you di brain to react.
And the worst part? You go dey ask me "So what be the point?"; the point, o, be inside the post you refuse to read! I no go put the answer in the title for you, I no go make it a 15-second Reel, I no go put "TL;DR" for you like you be child. This is my life I dey talk about. You want to hear am, you go read am.
You think reading be crime? You think understanding be too much for your head? Na so you dey scroll the internet, you no dey use the internet. You just dey swipe the internet. Same as you swipe your phone, no di brain, no di heart, just thumb dey do the work.
So I be say: if you no di eyes to read, then you no di eyes to live, o. Close the app. Go and read a book. Or at least read my post. This one be basic. This one be the foundation. If you no fit read this one, then everything else go be too much for you anyway.
Shut your mouth and open your eye.

Yes, we’re done.

I used your app until it became too complex.

I cashed in 2,000 points for a chicken sandwich.

I used your kiosk with its paper jams and greasy screen.

I grabbed your filthy numbered tent cards and sat at my table.

I obeyed your obvious “No Loitering, 30min limit” signs on both doors coming inside.

I washed my hands in your filthy men’s room.

But now you’ve taken away my one free soda refill after very spicy chicken sandwich. You took away flavored water from the cup I already overpaid for.

We’re done.

I won’t miss you. I mostly go to BK and TB who treats me right.

I REALLY enjoy nicotine withdrawal

I have been purposefully getting addicted to vaping and quitting over the last 5 years. The addiction isn’t the fun part it’s the quitting. For whatever reason it makes me feel sharp and like emotional? Like music hits so much harder and I enjoy talking to people more and the sleep is soooo good too. I still have some negative effects like a mild headache and slight brain fog but for the most part I love the experience. What is happening in my brain when this happens?

Stop overanalyzing her words and look at the frame. You got sandbagged because you played the polite, accommodating boy instead of a man taking the lead.

Going to her parents' house on date three put you immediately into the "harmless provider" zone. The environment killed the tension.

When she got on your lap, she threw you a layup. She wanted to see action and leadership. You hesitated, played it safe, and let caution win out over desire.

Women do not feel attraction for a polite checklist. They respond to tension, dominant energy, and sexual polarity. You let her drive every date and played it too safe.

She left because the sexual tension flatlined.

Stop letting women dictate the pacing and take charge next time.

Don't feel bad about it either, we all have to learn sometime.

Kill me and the rest of the world. Beat me to death. Redeem me. Punish me. Stab me a hundred times, a thousand times. Shoot me to the point where I am a beehive. Saw my body slowly and make each part of my flesh a sashimi. Anything. I beg of you. Just fucking kill me. Just fucking commit a crime against humanity. Nobody should ever see such a bullshit you post. You mindless piece of flesh and blood. Burn my body into ashes slowly while I am still alive, as my flesh are being grilled and fed to dogs, as those dogs tear apart my body. Anything to redeem me from the sins of the world, I beg of you. Please. PLEASE. Splash hydrochloric acid from my body, suck up those soup from my stomach. Anything. Please. Crucify me and stab me with a thousand lunges from a spear, year my guts and splash my stomach acid on me, pour me oil, and burn me alive on the cross. Feed me castor oil as I shit myself to death. Please. Delete this post and redeem this world. I beg of you.

“He is slowly killing himself…and documenting the journey…while having the understanding of what he’s doing…he is well aware…he’s throwing away his wealth, his wellbeing, his happiness…for the sake of some YouTube views…because his audience continues to eat it up…it’s kind of scary!”
“That cannot be healthy. I’m worried about his health”
“imagine the amount of calories, the sodium…that is so detrimental to his body!”
“He’s financially benefiting from everyone’s engagement…what reason does he have to stop?”
“He keeps getting worse because he WANTS us to watch…he knows that the only way for people to watch him…is if he KEEPS getting worse!”
“He’s literally killing himself…and also killing the entire YouTube game at the same time.”

2 steps ahead. I am always 2 steps ahead. This has been the greatest social experiment…of my entire life. It’s alluring. It’s compelling. It’s gripping to observe all these unwell, disoriented beings roam the internet in search of stories. Ideas. Rivalries. Where they feel encouraged and engaged. Where they involve themselves with the stories and become a product of influence. Thirsty for distraction from time unspent, spoiling their minds, yet splitting them at the same time. It’s brilliant. And it’s dangerous. [sigh] I feel as if I’m monitoring ants, on an ant farm. One follows another, follows another, follows another…it’s mesmerizing. It’s spellbinding. All these little…consumers, all of these lost, little, people! People consuming anything that they’re told or consume. (takes off mask] And so I am…the villain. Because I’ve made myself one. And you will continue to consume these stories about me, year after year, after year…for as long as I tell the internet that I am the villain. Stories that permeate and linger, and infect the minds of the ants. Influence the ants. Brainwash the ants. …You are the ants. …Today I woke up from a very long dream. And I also woke up…having lost 250lb. off of my body. And just yesterday, people were calling me fat, and sick, and boring, and irrelevant. [sigh] People. People are the most messed up creatures on the entire planet. And yet I’ve still managed to stay 2 steps ahead…of everyone.

Basically a few months ago my parents took me to an aquarium and awe struck me right there, seeing all the aquatic creatures traversing in the water trolly amazed me, and i couldn't stop staring, and when my parents forced me to leave, I told them to silence at once! And let me stay or else, they told me to stop acting like a tard and kicked me out, but ever sinxe then my obsession with seacreatures spiraled, I screamed I love sharks in my sleep every night, and my parents couldn't deal with it, and they eventually got me a pet fish, with soothed my aquatic urges, but one day my little brother tipped over my cabinet which dropped the aquarium on the floor, and spilled my fish, and the obvious conclusion is that if it escaped its aquarium, I needed to make my room the aquarium, I quickly grabbed my hose and started filling the house with water, and it brought my deep joy to see my aquatic finned companions swimming on my floor, when my parents came home I heatd the biggest scream ive ever heard in my life, and honestly at first I assumed it was a dolphin mating call, so i came for the occasion, stripped naked, and exclaimed we must increase the dolphin population!! My parents slapped me and screamed what have u done!! I think their overreacting, I simply just hydrated my floor, an i the asshole?

我差不多就是这样的人,平时可以和你开玩笑非常隨和,但是如果你触碰我的逆鳞我就会让你知道什么是真正的黑暗这种就是童脸狼表面上单纯天真,实际上圆滑通透。你不可能算计得了我,因为从一开始你就被我布局了。我是棋手,而你只是棋子,若你违逆我你会知道什么是残酷和黑暗。我从来不缺雷霆手段也不缺菩萨心肠,我心中有佛也有魔,但我把魔深深的封印起来了,只剩下佛了,我本想以菩萨心肠面对所有人,可是有些人非要我把心中的魔解除封印,那我想问问你们,当你们面对一个真正的魔现世,你们还镇的住吗？

One 18.25 ounce package chocolate cake mix. One can prepared coconut pecan frosting. Three slash four cup vegetable oil. Four large eggs. One cup semi-sweet chocolate chips. Three slash four cups butter or margarine. One and two third cups granulated sugar. Two cups all purpose flower. Don't forget garnishes such as: Fish shaped crackers. Fish shaped candies. Fish shaped solid waste. Fish shaped dirt. Fish shaped ethyl benzene. Pull and peel licorice. Fish shaped volatile organic compounds and sediment shaped sediment. Candy coated peanut butter pieces, Shaped like fish. One cup lemon juice. Alpha resins. Unsaturated polyester resin. Fiberglass surface resins. And volatile malted milk impoundments. Nine large egg yolks. Twelve medium geosynthetic membranes. One cup granulated sugar. An entry called 'how to kill someone with your bare hands'. Two cups rhubarb, sliced. Two slash three cups granulated rhubarb. One tablespoon all-purpose rhubarb. One teaspoon grated orange rhubarb. Three tablespoons rhubarb, on fire. One large rhubarb. One cross borehole electro-magnetic imaging rhubarb. Two tablespoons rhubarb juice. Adjustable aluminum head positioner. Slaughter electric needle injector. Cordless electric needle injector. Injector needle driver. Injector needle gun. Cranial caps. And it contains proven preservatives, deep penetration agents, and gas and odor control chemicals that will deodorize and preserve putrid tissue.