I'm not a pervert, no matter how hard I try

The Freckled Satan Demands Sacrifice

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Freckled Satan High Priestess
16 February
External Services:
  • hippie_girl8@livejournal.com
Must I fill out this insignificant little blurb about myself? How could a paragraph possibly describe who I am inside? It's an absurd task. I mean, honestly, how can you ask someone to summarize every complex nuance that is the fabric of their human psyche? If I say, "I like dogs," does that really tell you who I am? Does anybody truly know the inner workings of their "online buddies"? The mere thought is ridiculous. Does it not fill you with a sense of isolation to know that the artificial cyber world in which you permanently reside is inhabited by nothing more than a sea of faceless strangers about which you know nothing? Do you not feel the overwhelming crush of your singular, meaningless existence? Those cyber friends do not love you. Nobody loves you. we are all doomed to die friendless and alone, our lifeless bodies sprawled across our prostrated keyboards, only to be found weeks later by a pack of wild dogs.

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