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Literature Text

"Home" is where you're strangled,
points of refuge, vermillion-tipped and
pierced through the heart of every daydream,
whose spinal chords would hang down Africa
like amputated umbilical chords - one part
libertarian and two parts decaying sustenance
(because let's be honest: we're stuck down
where our roots were strangled, and we all
fear too well to know of anything else).
I'm stressed out of my mind and in need of some good tea. I'm resorting to one word prompts and submitting to feel somewhat productive in something, because my anxiety makes me so anxious, I become dumb and procrastinate everything. Basically: if it's important, it's not happening. what's wrong with mee

 La Toilet Paper  :ladummypat: Walkin' the Rock ....Walkin' the Rock ..............Walkin' the Rock . Gosh do you see what's wrong with me? I've resorted to finding cute-dumb emoticons T^T

(Oh good gosh, you think traveling from America to Japan would give you more miles than 12,000. I was checking my flight account, because I want to flee from everything in my life, and knowing I could makes me feel better, even if I'll never do it. Then I realized it takes about 25,000 to actually buy a ticket IN-country. And that might only take me a couple states over. Then I'm still in the part of the US that the Europeans claim to not exist or to be capable of sustaining humans [seriously, what? Then again, it's Facebook. End of explanation]. Gosh, all my dreams of using benefit miles Sad..Sad..Onion  ha)
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