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they all call her alaska

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my dream last night [Jun. 4th, 2009|01:36 am]
they all call her alaska
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last night i had a dream that some dictator took over the world, and he was killing everyone using all different types of methods, but mostly by putting all of us in this weird maze, and slowly following us with a poison spray. you had to try to escape it. if you died, it didnt matter, because you would start back at the beginning again, like in a video game. if you survived, he would only try to kill you again, in a different way.
in the midst of all of this, everyone hiding out and trying to advance through the stages that he had set up of being killed in different ways, he had also created all these rules that we had to follow. we had to wear certain clothes, use only certain words, we could not have sex or touch each other in any way that showed affection, whether it was sexual love or just friendly or family-like love. if we broke his rules, a part of our clothing would start to glow green, so he would be able to tell that we were lying. he would then kill us, and we would have to start all over again, just getting trying not to get killed and hiding out from this dictator.

very weird, and very hopeless.
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(no subject) [Jan. 8th, 2008|11:16 pm]
they all call her alaska
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[mood |curiouscurious]

How many men have you seen that have legs like men mixed with goats? Friends are just like the people that ruin your life. Your life is slowed down…. Ruined in a sense… but you really don’t mean to mind it. what would you over tie. I don’t care what your sense or fashion is. Your sense is everything that you mean it to be. What you mean it to be is exactly how you want it to be. What you want it to be is exactly how many people you are. The amount of people you are are almost equal to the quality of your life. The quality of your life can be:

A. The world, an eye hurting, an eye seeing the only religion you see.
B. The fattest guy in the world, looking into the sun at thescariest thing you’ve ever seen.
C. What do you think about that really? I see past the tears in your eyes.
D. I see past how many tears and men and heartlessness have torn your world apart….

I see you… as a person. The only person in the world that could ever achieve the things that YOU achieve. You make the world, in your small and tiny cup of a world that you call “world”, you achieve the things that I only wish I could do. Take me, take me in your small, small hands. Take me into the world that you consider a home. Take me there. I don’t understand the hate and the inconsiderate information you’ve given me. Can you give me Jesus Christ? Then you can’t give me anything. Jesus Christ was a brave man. The bravest man ’ve ever met, or heard of. No, Jesus Christ is not my brother. He is not my sister, nor my kin. He is only what I would consider normal. I’m only what I consider a “life” and sometimes, that life is however it is. He is so rude. How can he give up on me? How can he turn himself over into the world that I make of it. I can understand him, and poison is so professional. The vomit that leaks from one’s mouth is the only type in the world that can disgust me more than a steroid user is one that can only use chemicals to decifer what I am thinking. You can only use my mind, you can only use what im thinking. You can never think the same things I am thinking. It is literally impossible. Maybe, if you use the creatures I am using right now, at the current time, when I am wearing a large, large lime on my side. I don’t know how you would. I tire at the time I am…. But you are what you make of yourself. Arrest is only accomplished as yourself. Success is your only outlet, your only escape. Without thinking, you refuse to give up the thing that meant the most to you. Your pride. Your pride is the only thing that you will never give up on. That is a homosexual thing to imagine, you know that? You make me sick, for imagining up such a nasty thing. Why do you insult me. You’re wet, and that makes me sick. Talk to me like that again, I DARE you to. You won’t do it, and you know, you can’t do it. you are so irregular, you are the epitome of strange. You are strange. You don’t exist.
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