Hell, could have just been me. When we bend morality to suit every whim, we end up killing each other in the name of ourselves. Once again, I cannot sign my damned name in my own handwriting. I also played the fool for a girl or two there.
As if that was going to tell me anything other than the fact that I was running late.
The third installment was my favorite, but they all warranted a playing or twelve. That the only way to quell my incessant need to worry, have anxiety and dive headlong into crippling depression at nearly nothing is to numb me.
Believing in it and living by it are very different. Certainly, one could effect pseudo-control with a psychiatrist by lying. Bible Belt and all that. Turns out the vehicle is registered to this Corey Anderson fellow.
Yet he keeps his own personality in the works, being less fantastic with the crescendos and a little more subtle with the lows.
About what it can do. As such, all these childhood memories flood back to me these days when my skin hits the cold outside.
Something that was a little more garnered toward the things I live versus having the best, most spiffy design what one would see on this Intranet Thing. Do they make plasma televisions that small? Especially not myself. In a world where our kids kill? I stepped in thinking Mom and Pop diner and ended up with a magnificent meal.
As I said, it is registered under the name, Corey Anderson.
Everything resetting, recalibrating.
I try and tell myself that the good I can do is done by finding what things make me happy, making myself a better man and thus affecting people around me positively. About what it does to people who allow it free reign. My windshield was a little iced, and immediately fogged over to zero-visibility the moment I sat down.