I need to get inspired. I need to get laid. I left my home. My family…everything now. I stand kinda alone but its not like all emo and fagula or some shit. Shit happens. That’s something you say when you know you fucked up or someone you don’t want to put on blast fucked up. SO its just shit happens. Well ya know. It does…and FUCK it. Fuck the shit. This is my time to talk it up and let ya know it….and smell it…since the shits thicker in here than my dick in a super penis pump after I drank three redbulls and had a shot of Sorroc.
You know, I think I never said how hard this blog was in the beginning. It was…I was….well am, really a no one in this game. Even if that is a thousand percent true I am prolific. Im out here with new shit…even if I forget and repeat…I never retreat. I go on and shit. Now I know I said that the other volumes cause me fits…like I was hitting the wall going two hundred. This may be true, but I did get through and made each volume bigger than the last.
What I mean to say….damn why is it taking so fucking long….is that volume one was hard. I was writing each one like I was trying to make it big. Like a million fucking people were waiting for every word. I was a superstar…I would fucking sweat…and think about them…and worry. I was suffering anxiety for something I bet not even a quarter of the people that come now read.
Why? Well, because I was in love with it. I still enjoy it don’t get it twisted. I still come here and do what I do don’t I? Its like your wife you still fuck or husband. They get floopey, the annoy you…then may not perform like you remember…but shit you love em right? It’s a place your familiar with…its something like home. That’s why I bitch about this but I continue. I need it, feel it, treat it like mine.
I don’t each shit and fuck it anymore but hey that’s just like above…shit gets familiar…you become…dare I say…professional. You find a way to do it. To make it happen. And I always *ladies* make it fucking happen. Inside jokes and sexual innuendo aside…you know Im going to be me. Im going to pump it up like Hans when he jacked off Frans and Im going to be hype like Hitler with a line of crystal meth and a red revolver.
So keep with it folks, this ride aint over yet, even if prayed for it to be.
What I mean to say….damn why is it taking so fucking long….is that volume one was hard. I was writing each one like I was trying to make it big. Like a million fucking people were waiting for every word. I was a superstar…I would fucking sweat…and think about them…and worry. I was suffering anxiety for something I bet not even a quarter of the people that come now read.
Why? Well, because I was in love with it. I still enjoy it don’t get it twisted. I still come here and do what I do don’t I? Its like your wife you still fuck or husband. They get floopey, the annoy you…then may not perform like you remember…but shit you love em right? It’s a place your familiar with…its something like home. That’s why I bitch about this but I continue. I need it, feel it, treat it like mine.
I don’t each shit and fuck it anymore but hey that’s just like above…shit gets familiar…you become…dare I say…professional. You find a way to do it. To make it happen. And I always *ladies* make it fucking happen. Inside jokes and sexual innuendo aside…you know Im going to be me. Im going to pump it up like Hans when he jacked off Frans and Im going to be hype like Hitler with a line of crystal meth and a red revolver.
So keep with it folks, this ride aint over yet, even if prayed for it to be.