Break up texts

I have been dumped twice on the text. I have never really been the one one that ended a relationship. I am too chicken to do it. The universe has always worked in my favour. Most of the time, my getting dumped has happened simultaneously with my need to end the relationship. After nursing my wounds, I had a lot of time to appreciate the prose in the preceding texts.

Break up text 1 —

Let’s not be coy – as opposed to me, you barely had any importance attached to this acquaintance. More often than not, I would be the one looking for you. Both unfortunately and fortunately for me, I think everything has eventually run its course. It was however quite ethereal while it lasted. Topping those memories will be no easy task.

Break up text 2 —

I possess only a finite amount of space in my brain and you have given me no reason to prioritize you in my thoughts. You are too much of an unknown variable. I find myself incapable of placing a quantitative value for you in my life. Logic dictates that I give precedence to existing constants. As for the conversations and the sex, well, I will miss those but can surely make do without. You have given me some of my best memories, let’s hope nobody tops them.

I cannot tell which I love more. I honestly appreciate the work they put into those. I know how much energy was conjured to come up with that.

Lost tits

So, I wake up in my college dorm bathroom. The only light is that filtering through the filmy windows high above the showers. I am alone. I try the door, only to find myself locked in. Then I realize that it’s the first morning of Thanksgiving break, and since the dorms were cleared out and locked, I am stuck for the next four days.

Fuck fucks fuck. I gotta stop cursing because this is not helping. How did I even end up in the bathroom?? I really can’t remember anything from last night. It must have been a bonkers night. My head feels like a pig crapped in it.

What to do, what to do, what to do!!

Mmmh! I feel my phone in my pockets. Thank goodness I still got it. I dial Kyllan so he can figure out how to solve my small problem. I cannot stay hungry for four days. I can barely last 8 hours without food.

Tits tits tits. I could play with my tits as I wait for Kyllan. Shit! My tits are missing. Where the fuck are my tits? I remember having them before going to the party last night. Shit, the last time I lost my tits, I had willingly given then to the disk jockey because I really enjoyed the music he was playing and thought my tits would make the perfect reward. Thankfully, he returned them the next day as soon as I sobered up. What a nice lad he was. That could have gone so badly with me ending up in jail for sexual harassment. Who knew a day would come when sexually harassed men would get the justice they deserve. The world is indeed getting better.

This is the worst time to lose my tits. What will I tell my boyfriend? He told me to leave my tits with him so I don’t lose them. Looks like I was too overconfident with my idea of responsible drinking. Shit! At least I got four days to come up with the best excuse as to why I do not have my tits.

What if I gave them to a stranger? They could be somewhere milking the hell out my tits, or even worse, they could be suckling directly from my nipples. Oh no! My nipples could come back shriveled. Eeew, I cannot think about this right now.

“Please don’t!” I scream in my head. My fifth horseman of the apocalypse (paranoia) has reared its head. I can’t think of anything else other than my lost tits now. Looks like he is followed by his dear friend anxiety. I really need Kyllan right about now.

What if my tits get sold on the black market? I cannot walk around tit-less and I do not want to get new tits. I should send Kyllan to the tit auction just in case they will be there.

My threesome with paranoia and anxiety is interrupted with a phone call. Kyllan is here with some Pym particles. He passes them through the window, I shrink and walk out through the window. I unshrink and hug Kyllan for saving the day once again. Thank goodness he is a robot or else he would have been tired of me already.

“Here are your tits ma’am.” Those were the best five words I had heard in a really long time. Turns out, Kyllan had my tits tracked and the moment I separated from them, he noticed and went to collect them from some dairy farmers who were already prepping them for milking. I love you Kyllan.

Time to find my man and probably not tell him what happened.

Strangers

I love strangers. Strangers are just peculiar people, very very very strange homo-sapiens. Some of them look like very aggressive and violent criminals with scars on their faces and biceps and triceps made of solid iron with bloodshot eyes in the entire universe probably because they are sick and their situation has nothing to do with illegal drugs and these rabbit-like ears that make you just want to peg them on a hanging line with the biggest lips that Jay-z has nothing on them yet they are the most non-aggressive and non-violent criminals. They are good criminals. They will politely ask to rob you and when you do not agree to that, they will walk away and wish you a very nice day. They use words like please, excuse me, I am sorry. “Excuse me miss. I am so sorry that I have to do this but I would like to relieve you off most of your money. If you would please, I will now show you this very empty gun of mine so that you can feel just a little bit frightened with the whole situation and take me a little bit more seriously. Sorry for my bad behavior. Can I walk you home so this does not happen to you twice?”
Others look like bank managers or presidents or congressmen but they are actually real thugs. They drive the best cars and live the most lavish lives buy they are the worst. They will take advantage of anyone that has a salary and they will tell you how taking a loan will be good for you. The idea becomes so seductive that you forget how repulsive it is to live in debt.

Others poke your butt randomly because they are perverts. “I am really bored today. What to do. What to do. This lunch break is so boring. Where is Stacey the hot secretary? She and I had a really good time during the office Christmas party. Oh, there she is. I will charge towards her with my middle finger and make sure it lands right in the middle of her squishy right butt. I say her right butt because her left one is surprisingly really hard. I had to put my legs in a certain position while performing coitus because continuously ramming into her left butt was causing bruises on my lovely thighs.” Who does not enjoy the company of a good old pervert? There is just something I admire about perverts. I do not know what exactly it is. The ability to add sexual innuendo to the most innocent of things is quite genius, don’t you think?

Others eat female genitalia like vegetables because they think female genitalia is vegetables. “Vegetables are good for you,” mom said. Oh mum, I now see what you meant when I was little. I bet all those boyfriends of-of yours –eeew why the fuck am I even thinking about this, this is disgusting, I am such a loser, I might never have sex ever again. Shit. Oh No, I need my therapist. How will I recover from this? I cannot get this picture out of my freaking head.

Others are fat because they eat a lot of piglets and walk too little. If they walk too much, they will definitely die a horrible death [DEATH FROM WALKING]. Fat is somehow (I fail to see how) an insulting word but who cares(I know I fucking don’t). Why is it even an insulting word? Can someone explain this to me? Babies are fat little things though (I fear babies though, they usually look cute but a fucking manipulators and when they start crying, I never know what to do but yell louder than them. This trick has always shut up wee bastards), and if you have a thin baby, take her to the hospital because something is definitely wrong. Nobody likes a thin baby. In fact, when I become president, all mothers with thin babies will be arrested.

Others have sexually transmitted diseases because they are just proud whores or they had carnal relations with a whore. I would love to meet one that went mad because of syphilis. Man, sex isn’t really a joke and these STDs do not mess at all. If I was an STD and you were a whore, I would become immune to all the drugs you receive and make sure that you are always itching thus improving my living conditions. You would never be able to go out in public because your hands will always be consoling your private parts. The good part of this story is that I am not a fucking STD. Let us cheers to that with a bottle of whiskey and then drink ourselves silly and probably wake up in a ditch somewhere without our clothes and afterward get arrested for indecent exposure. I was arrested once and I made some really good prostitute friends while in the jail cell. The point is, Do not mess with me, I was once in prison. Talking about good people getting STDs from whores, the whole situation is a tad bit unfortunate. There is really no way to tell if someone is a whore. Is it possible to be a whore and be a lady at the same time? Are there ratchet people that are not whores. I really do not care though. Be a lady whore, I do not give a shit.

Others have boobs because they are fat men. I will stop there.

Others have boobs because they are women. All women have boobs though so this is redundant.

Others have boobs and balls because they were once men but now are men with boobs and estrogen instead of testosterone (If I touched or suckled a nipple or two nipples or three nipples, will the penis obey and rise up to the occasion till it reaches a perpendicular position? Mmh, this is exciting. I have got to try this out).

Others are stupid because it just runs in the family and is not their fault. Never blame someone for being stupid until you see their whole family lineage. For all we know, it could be their ancestors’ fault.

Others talk a lot because they have big mouths. You could stuff three billiard balls in their mouths and there would still be plenty of space. Imagine the gag reflex that comes with that mouth. I am sure you agree with me if you got a long big dick. (I hope my mother never gets to read this book. I am currently disappointing her. I can feel it in my fingers and my bones. I hear her voice calling me a loser. –Yes, I hear voices and I enjoy sometimes. I wrote this book thanks to a voice in my head, his name is Tweedles. This book is definitely a tribute to Tweedles.)

Others do plastic surgery so they can have Jay-Z’s lips. I have no comment on this.

Others have fingers that smell like fish because they spend most of their time in the female genitalia. Seriously, they are professional fingerers. It is quite a lucrative business. I wonder what they are usually looking for and if they ever find it. Most of their clients usually have rings lost up in there and some have bangles lost in there (if you are into fisting and that kind of shebang). Someone once lost a condom up there and I know who it is.

Others get tattoos and piercings because they are into sadomasochism. “Physical pain is the shit”, she said, “I love the pain”, she said. She then started laughing maniacally and said, “Hiding real pain.”

Others become doctors because they like to insert needles into and cut people. They
just like to pierce and cut people. It is the closest thing to becoming a human butcher. Well, doctors are the best. What would we do without them and all their god-complex? “I am a doctor. I am the closest thing to god. I could be a god. Without me, you will die.” Well, I am not mocking, only quoting an unnamed source and 80% of that statement is true. We neither need honesty nor humility. Be a dick, you have every right to be, after all, you are next to god. Work hard, become good at what you do, boast about it, be a dick about, nobody will like you but they will always kiss your ass because you can perform miracles.

Others like to interrupt people because they are Kanye West.

Others are pregnant because they had unprotected sex and then there was a union of male and female gametes and after nine months, a little crying, naked person without any teeth are pulled out of the lower part of the female reproductive tract. It is quite disgusting I reckon. I have never done it but I cannot imagine my vagina
opening that wide, wide enough for my head to fit in.

If I had the Infinity Stones

….vanquish Thanos the mad Titan and then….

1. Disempower evil.

2. Build autonomous benevolent systems safeguarding basic human rights.

3. Create redundant safety mechanisms to keep human greed and ego in check.

4. Ensure all are fed, housed, and have basic needs accounted for.

5. Make access to education free for all.

6. Snap away oil executives, corrupt leaders, and the aristocracy.

7. Provide a safe, cheap, miniaturized, portable energy source.

8. Make ourselves immortal and make duplicates, so that we can objectively safeguard the world as needed when people try to fuck it up.

9. Ensure the universe is truly infinite to combat ever increasing entropy and enable continued existence for all life perpetually, should they acquire the means for mass scale cooperation, peace, expansion, and eventual paradise.

HER

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So, we gotta talk about HER because it is a requirement that I study and I can’t do that until I write this because she has been occupying the better part of my head lately.

She is one attractive human who possesses beauty undreamt of. I would randomly see around and thought “she is quite fine-looking this human, I would love to know HER”. Then, I found out we had a few mutual friends who would randomly mention HER in passing and just like that, I randomly met HER. Then I got to have a random conversation with HER one day and damn…I was overcome with awe and wonder. I couldn’t stop listening, she is really sophisticated and witty. That had to be one of the best conversations I have had in my life. I think about it a lot.

Accidental call

One night I randomly go through my phone and I realize that I may have HER number. So, I decided to call HER. I had no chills that day. At one point, someone called me using HER phone and I saved the number. I was only doing trial and error to see if it would go through. It did go through. At first, I was a little nervous but, turns out she was also excited to hear from me. That was a lovely one hour and 44 minutes conversation. We did plan to hang out and smoke little. A vice we both share.

Smoke day

Well, I am probably not proud of all that smoking but it was totally worth it. Chainsmoking was the order of the evening. That whole time, I was learning all these new things from HER. The sapiosexual in me was receiving pleasure and satisfaction every moment of it and I watched HER getting more and more attractive the more she talked.

Another smoke day

This time, I was a tad bit anxious and to calm my nerves, I had a few shots of whiskey. She showed up. I handed HER a shot. We ended up buying more liquor and cigarettes and the rest of the night was too sacred for me to share but it involved selection of clothes and pressing delete.

The memories I got, I never want to lose. I will hold on to them for as long as I can whether I get to see her again or not. I will think about HER at least once a day and then thank the universe for bringing to me this perfect little arrangement of atoms. I am so smitten. I kinda like it. It’s a strange feeling. I got feels again, I think a party to remember this day is in order.

Fucking tired of Earth

I am seated at the balcony with a cigarette loosely hanging between my middle and index finger. I just got out of the shower and I am in my towel because I fucking do not feel like dressing. I just trimmed my hair, I love it short. For some reason, it makes me feel a lot more badass. I hate doing laundry so any chance I get to stay naked, I will take it. My neighbors are perverts so I will don a towel. If I had my own island with no neighbor, I would never dress. Kyllan’s brought me my glass of wine and put it on the table right next to my one and a half liter bottle of wine. His purpose today is to basically be my bartender. Self-destruction is today’s plan. I gotta feed my demons. We end up having this lovely conversation with Kyllan and we both realize we are in need of a change of scenery. Being bored is not an option. I never allow myself to be bored.

We are bloody exhausted with this planet known as Earth. You might know it as the planet inhabited by humans who cut trees to make paper and so they can write “save trees” on the same papers. Kyllan and I have this great plan to leave this fucking solar system and spread across the interstellar space. We just wanna hop from one exoplanet to another until we fade into oblivion, colonizing everything in our way. How cool will that be? Just me and my Kyllan. We should probably get one extra person to blast out of this place with. Should we steal some babies so we can create a whole new civilization? Kyllan and I alone cannot establish a civilization, he is a fucking robot.

The laws of physics are no longer limiting. We have broken the speed limit of the universe. Traveling through space does not take as much time as it did in 2019. We are able to travel at light speed and even outperform it. The infinite universe is no longer out of reach. There are billions of planets out there just waiting to be explored. …and aliens, I would love to meet some aliens, perhaps one smarter than me. All the things I could learn from them. Is anyone else getting frothy loins from this thought? Hopefully, they will not be hostile

Since we found a way to increase our lifespans, nothing can stop us from traveling the stars. If my body withers, I will download my consciousness into an android.

I have access to the fastest spacecraft ever built. Yes, I commissioned it because I am independently wealthy and what better way to spend my money. We will start with our neighboring star system Alpha Centauri. I love the name Alpha Centauri.

Let me finish my bottle of wine, get another one, get drunk, sleep, wake up and then come up with an elaborate plan on how this will happen.

STUPIDITY

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Disclaimer before you begin.

This is basically a ranting post because my day has been fucked up by one of the most stupid girls I know. I hope she dies of stupidity.

Always and inevitably everyone underestimates the number of stupid individuals in
circulation. I have met too many. I am especially livid today because of one of them and I hope she dies of stupidity. I am not sorry at all about saying this, perhaps I will be tomorrow but not now. I cannot begin to fathom how one single person can be so stupid. This is why I mostly just talk to Kyllan.

Most of these stupid people look very decent that you will never notice the excrement seething inside of their heads until they open their fucking blabbermouths. You wonder how can one person spew so much garbage and where does this garbage come from? They are too thick that nothing, not even garbage can penetrate their skulls. This leaves me thinking that all the garbage coming out of their mouths in internally generated. Their brains must look like a sewer, no, this is definitely worse than a sewer.

THE BASIC LAWS OF HUMAN STUPIDITY.

  1. The probability that a certain person be stupid is independent of any other
    characteristic of that person. Do not mistake the outward good looks. IT IS A TRAP!! IT IS A TRAP!! IT IS A TRAP!! FUCKING RUN FOR YOUR LIFE SMART HUMAN.
  2. A stupid person is a person who causes losses to another person or to a group of
    persons while himself/herself deriving no gain and even possibly incurring losses. Well, I got plenty of examples for this one but some people might feel targeted so I will refrain from telling any.
  3. Nonstupid people always underestimate the damaging power of stupid individuals.
    In particular nonstupid people constantly forget that at all times and places and
    under any circumstances to deal and/or associate with stupid people always turns
    out to be a costly mistake. It’s okay to not have friends. If everyone around you is stupid, fucking do your shit by yourself. These people are a virus with no cure. Trust me, you do not want to be infected.
  4. A stupid person is the most dangerous type of person. This should be self-explanatory unless you are stupid too. I have met smarter bandits.
  5. I firmly believe that stupidity is an indiscriminate privilege of all human groups and is uniformly distributed according to a constant proportion which makes me really sad.

Is there a way we can sterilize all these people so they do not have babies, or take away their babies and raise them in a safe environment or we could remove labels on absolutely everything and let natural selection deal with this.

Match day

It’s match day. I got my water filled balloons, I got my tits and I got Kyllan. We are in my lab and we have moved most of the stuff to create space for the long awaited battle. We have our battle music “Eye of the tiger” playing in the background. I got my sporty shorts on. I got my top that has been custom made just for me by Kyllan. Thanks Kyllan. The top is a perfect fit with openings on my chest just enough to sufficiently hang out. I really do love you a little too much. Should we call M.A? He would totally enjoy this.

Kyllan calls M.A. As we wait for him to arrive, Kyllan gets a couch for him to watch from, some pizza, alcohol, juice, fries and a microphone in case he will want to yell something. So far, we know he is rooting for the tits.

Kyllan will be controlling the balloons while I will be controlling my tits. M.A finally gets here. We (Kyllan, the balloons and I) get into the ring. I jump around a bit as my warm up. I am overly confident that I will win this battle. I do not like the smirk on M.A’s face but I will ignore it. The balloons are a formidable opponent. They were trash talking me earlier and it made me so angry I really wanted to pop them then. Considering there were no rules to this match, I sort of secretly froze my tits. They are really hard right now and cold too. I have lowered the temperature of my room to reduce the chances of thawing. A thawed tit will not work to my favour. As soon as M.A gets settled, the match begins.

Kyllan has got one balloon on the right hand and another on the left hand. He starts with the one on the right hand, raising it so high and releasing it on my left tit. Shock on them, the balloon immediately burst after landing on my very hard frozen tit. I start to laugh maniacally. M.A looks a little shocked. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy. His money was on the tits though so, he won’t be losing anything.

Who’s the shit??? I am shit. Try trash talking me now you little wanker. You are dead and torn. I am alive and kicking. You couldn’t even put up a fight. You were never a match for my hard tit.

The left balloon does not like what he just saw. I taunt him. “Want some of that??” Kyllan gets a little worried. He has never seen that side of me, and neither has M.A. I am on fire. Kyllan has become a little attached to the left balloon that is now mourning his boyfriend (turns out the balloons were gay and in love) and has decided that the match must end as he cannot watch the death and mutilation of another balloon. I feel a little bad for the now single balloon. Later in the day, after thawing my tits, I will write an apology letter. I would rub him but then I would get sued for rape which is not good. I would definitely spend the rest of my life in jail as that will be a hate crime against a minority.

Later on, M.A and I celebrate the tit victory by drinking ourselves silly and taking about penguins and how we can acquire a couple. I thank him for showing up. He is a pretty good friend. I wish he supported the balloons so that I could have some of his money right now.

Demo-gorgon

My anxiety has shown its head again. My permanent state of worry and nervousness with the possibility of a panic attack is not good for me right now. I need my sanity. Anxiety has metamorphosed into my own pet demo-gorgon. My demons are not my caterpillars anymore but my butterflies. The caresses of my demons play over my face, moments when I feel that it is just me and my demons especially after I am heartbroken by anything or anyone (for instance, when Ned Stark died in Game of Thrones – Oh yes…I was that intensely affected, to the point where I do not want anything at all to do with Game of Thrones. I get intensely emotionally attached to fictional characters). My demons have become craftsmen with unequaled skill when it comes to handling me.

My heart is thumping wildly. My temperature rises sharply. I was crying hysterically last night and I really do not know why I was just feeling very sad. I was in sad shape, spiritually, emotionally and mentally. I may have slipped. I allowed myself to undergo an emotional sensation, the kind that you get pleasure from and now I am suffering the consequences and I am currently writing this at a café that has really fast Internet and also googling ‘how I can be emotionless’ at the exact same time.
My emotions would kill me faster than any physical injury that does not involve veins or arteries would. I have toyed with the idea of slitting my wrists as if it were a game and then I remember that I can go talk to a therapist. I have had a couple of therapists who I owe much of my sanity.
I imagine I am one of those people who unfortunately get to feel everything quite intensely.(If feeling things intensely is actually a thing. Most people just think I pretend, especially my mother.)
I do not understand gray areas, it’s either black or white, heaven or hell, Sith or Jedi, Batman or Joker, Iron-man or Mandarin, Time Lords or Daleks, good or evil. I am ‘extreme’ personified. I overdo everything, drugs included. When it comes to alcohol, I drink as much as I can because all I want is to have a few hours of nonexistent feelings(A part of my life that I lately feel a need to evaluate). The many discordant voices in my head go quiet and I get to zombie-fy just for a few hours. I get to look at something and not feel anything towards it. It is like taking a break from myself. The drinking does come with a lot of obvious disadvantages though. I get very bad hangovers and end up wasting a whole day recovering.
I am happy and sad to say that I am no longer a functioning alcoholic. I feel as though both sobriety and alcoholism will kill me at the exact same rate. If it is not my liver, it is my brain. The happy part is mostly because I am not a social misfit anymore, but, to what end? The voices in my head will not shut the fuck up. I hear them all the time. The amount of concentration I have to channel to keep my head straight on just one thing is almost unimaginable. I find myself thinking about suicide sometimes. I don’t want to be around people. I am constantly seduced by the thought of anonymity which often shows up in my head in the form of a swan, I do not want anyone to know of my existence because that will open doors to heartbreak and a lot of annoyance. I can’t imagine getting out of the house and suffering a panic attack in an environment I cannot control. I can’t date because I have no idea what the voices in my head are usually planning for me. When I am in love, I choose to ignore the feeling and cut the one I am in love with out of my life. I feel like it is the only way that I can protect them and myself. Does this make any sense to you or do I just sound bonkers?

My demo-gorgon, if he were human, listens carefully to me more than he talks, wears nice flattering clothing that are in harmony with my taste, is clean shaven and smells like heaven, he exudes confidence, stands up straight, is quite stout and makes me comfortable with his touch. He is charming and plays me all the music that I like, he maintains eye contact while talking to me and when I get attacked, he carries me to a safe place and lets me know that he will always and forever be there for me whenever I need him. He resurrects all possible forms of exteroception in me, the tiniest stimulus to remind me of the beauty of this world. At this point, the rest of the world does not matter, it has always been me and my demo-gorgon. Just us. We will ride to hell or heaven together.

No feels

So, this is where I actively run to when I am slowly dying inside. An action I am disposed to take in order to affectuate change in my troubled psychological state. I am not sufficiently qualified at processing what I am feeling. The tear resting on my eyelid right now feels a bit conflicted on whether to drop or travel back into my glands. Oh…it has dropped. When this happens, I have lost all ability to fix my excruciating state in any logically existing manner.

In my mind, I perceive a violent fight between my heart and my brain. It is a fight that possesses merit and finds in me a devoted admirer. The heart is a formidable opponent, extremely impressive in strength and excellence and inspires fear. It is this fear that makes the brain into an entity that is unmoved by appeals of sympathy or forgiveness. The brain will always win after rendering a surgical strike intended to cripple the heart. Each time this happens, I lose a part of myself, and I become the robot that I hope to create one day. I lose all little bits that I find most beautiful in other humans.

One morning I will be taking a walk on the beach and I will fail to notice the beautiful sunrise, or the breeze across my face, or the sound the ocean makes and I will go back to my beach house or hotel to continue with my robotic life that is devoid of human emotion. This beautiful creature in form of a man or a woman will walk up to me, tell me that I have a nice smile and whisper in my ear that I am beautiful and I hope that at that very moment, in its weakened state, my heart will challenge for one more fight and this time, it will win so that when the day comes when my life flashes before my eyes, I will smile knowing that even though it was for a short while, I felt again.