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Why I Hate the Hate Group Women’s March

I’m a woman who doesn’t agree with all the new trending hate groups that are popping up all over America in recent years. The Women’s March is one such hate group who has garnered millions of fans made up of men and women and all sorts of people with identity and gender crisis issues in between. The hate group Women’s March however, has a special place in my shriveled blackened heart of hearts because it’s a group which tries to claim to stand for all women. Well, they’re definitely not fucking standing up for this woman because I can stand up for myself without their hate and their bullshit.

What the hate group Women’s March really is is a disgrace to all women everywhere. From Madonna wanting to blow up the White House to Ashley Judd’s poem of being a nasty woman but not as nasty as President Donald Trump’s daughter Ivanka being a sex symbol to her father, to all the trash left behind by millions of people who littered in the streets and didn’t care, to the blatant message of treason of “standing up and fighting against” the President of the United States of America, to the supposed issues that women face today in America which is nothing compared to what women face in other countries around the world.

The hate group Women’s March creates a division in genders, promoting the discrimination of all males in favor of females by constantly creating the illusion that all females are victims. Does that plan sound familiar to anyone? The hate group, Black Lives Matter, did the same thing by creating a division between skin color and promoting the discrimination of all whites and people of lighter skin color in favor of all blacks and people of a darker skin color by constantly creating the illusion that all blacks and people of a darker skin color are victims.

I will always call hate groups for what they really are, hate groups. Here are some ways to recognize them.

Hate groups pretend to promote peace and love, but their messages are of spreading fear and violence and destruction and harm to others. “We just want equality for all women in America,” the hate group Women’s March would say. “We’re fighting to protect our rights and our children’s rights to having control over our bodies. Our vaginas are ours and we decide what we can do with them.” The actual message that the hate group Women’s March really says is this, “All men are chauvinistic pigs who can’t control their penises so we have to assume all men are rapists. Trump is a man so let’s blow up the White House so we can get a vagina in there who is like us. Trump’s ten year old son is a man so let’s compare him to a school shooter because obviously, men are more violent than women and he’ll grow up to be a mass murderer anyway.” Hate groups like Women’s March are sick and perverted. Once they hook people in with their fake message of spreading peace, they begin their real work on creating fear and causing violence and destruction and harm to others. Any group that victimizes children like the hate group Women’s March is just sickening.

Hate groups hide behind the excuse that they are the victims while victimizing everyone else. “Men rape women all the time. It’s just not accounted for. All men are rapists,” the hate group Women’s March would say. While pretending to be victims of rape, women paint a solid picture that all men are rapists and women must therefore hate all men and protect their selves from all men. “Women don’t get equal pay as men because we’re women,” is one of the many tired excuses of feminists everywhere. If women worked as hard as men did doing the same jobs and putting in the same amount of effort, then women would get paid the same, but they don’t. The wage gap isn’t because a man gets paid more to have a penis. The wage gap is because women choose not to work as hard as men do doing the same job because they have family and friends and other things that they want to do instead of putting in the hours at work. A woman would more likely choose their family and their children and their friends over working more or doing more work. So all these supposed women’s issues that exist because men are oppressing women are a load of bullshit. Women, stop fucking drinking every Friday night with friends and you might actually get that pay raise you’ve been looking for when you work as hard as the other people doing that same job.

Hate groups demand special privileges. “We deserve to be able to choose what to do with the growing baby inside our bodies that we got from having unprotected sex because we already made the choice to have sex, but we don’t want to bear the responsibilities of becoming actual adults and taking care of that child and raising that child,” the hate group Women’s March would say in their defense of a woman’s right to an abortion. “It’s still our bodies and no man is going to tell us we can’t kill the living child inside because it’s our bodies and our vaginas.” If retroactive abortion existed, the world would be a better place without such selfish and lame ass excuses of people who desires to kill a life without the consequences of being punished for murder. The truth is that while the hate group Women’s March pretends to be the sad victim of being born a second rate citizen due to their vagina in a world of penises, their only goal is to oppress and force special privileges to be made because of their fucking vagina. If women stopped having sex, period, they wouldn’t get pregnant. But no, all men are rapists and all pregnancies are caused by rapists so as a woman, they’re totally fucking innocent of being the sluts they are and opening their vaginas to penises. Women, stop fucking people and you wouldn’t have to worry about an abortion. A woman using her vagina as an excuse to demand reparations for false perceptions of social injustice because they still ultimately choose their circumstances doesn’t make their fucking vagina a valid excuse to murder a life because a baby is inconvenient to that fucking vagina who fucked around and got pregnant. Women are fucking drama queens. “I have a vagina. I’m special. I need special rules that puts me above everyone else because I’m better than everyone else.” This fucking type of behavior of a woman who flaunts their vagina as the be all, end all is disgusting and is absolutely disrespectful to all women everywhere. Your fucking vagina is not that fucking special. Get your heads out of your asses or should I say, get your heads out of your vaginas.

Hate groups always use famous names to validate their false causes and make their issues and concerns seem real and true. Madonna, the queen of pop who shamelessly said to the crowd at Madison Square Garden and to everyone watching that she’d give them a blow job if they voted for Hillary Clinton, also said that she has thought an awful lot about blowing up the White House because Trump is now president. While many people try to claim that she wasn’t serious saying either of those things, someone like Madonna who has followers and fans in the millions, is able to convince people that it’s okay to do such things. Her solicitation of oral sex for Hillary votes during the Presidential campaign and her treasonous call to blowing up the White House is by no means a joke or something to be taken lightly of.

Ashley Judd, a once upon a time decent actress, exclaimed she was a nasty woman to the cheers of hundreds of thousands of people at the hate group Women’s March. She continued to read a poem exclaiming how nasty of a woman she was, but that she’s not as nasty as President Trump who is a man. And while hundreds of thousands of stupid people are cheering on such disgusting behavior, they fail to realize that the disgusting behavior is the truth of this entire hate group, that there is no love and peace, that there is only hatred and ugliness.

Hate groups always need to point the finger to divert attention from what they’re really doing and they’ll be as bold to blame someone else for what they are doing. Actress America Ferrera said at the hate group Women’s March, “It’s been a heart-rending time to be both a woman and an immigrant in this country. Our dignity, our character, our rights have all been under attack and a platform of hate and division assumed power yesterday. But the president is not America. His cabinet is not America. Congress is not America. We are America. And we are here to stay.” It’s a shame actresses don’t have to be very intelligent. The platform of hate and division she’s talking about is really the hate group Women’s March whose sole purpose is to divide the country into fucking vaginas and bad penises, except for the penises that claim to be fake vaginas in this life or another life or whenever they feel like cutting it off. What a hate group does is instead of focusing on valid issues and concerns, they turn around and start blaming. “President Trump has a penis. President Trump is bad. President Trump’s cabinet has men in there. And those men have penises. And penises are bad.” Fucking hell. Isn’t it tiring to try and blame your own choices on someone else? Most of the bullshit women’s issues stem from choices women made. Women choose to fucking have sex. Baby results. Women kills babies because it’s an inconvenient truth of them opening their fucking legs. Women choose to party and go to clubs and drinks with friends instead of working. Work productivity declines because of lack of sleep and hangovers and other issues from a choice women made. Women puts in less effort at work. Women gets paid less. Oh, it’s suddenly men’s fault women don’t do so well at work because they choose to prioritize other things above work. Fucking fluffy special snowflakes who never take responsibility for their selves and simply want to blame everyone else for shitty choices they made in life.

Scarlett Johansson said, “President Trump, I did not vote for you. That said, I respect that you are you our President-elect and I want to be able to support you. But first I ask that you support me, support my sister, support my mother, support my best friends and all of all girlfriends. Support the men and women here today that are anxiously awaiting to see how your next moves may drastically affect their lives. Support my daughter who may actually, as a result of the appointments you have made, grow up in a county that is moving backwards, not forward, and who may potentially not have the right to make choices for her body and her future that your daughter Ivanka has been privileged to have.” While I respect her for calling him President Trump, she’s not that bright either. How in the world is a woman potentially not able to make choices for her body and her future? As far as I’m aware, America has not become a one-child policy country like China where millions of baby girls are discarded or killed because of their gender. America is not a women genital mutilated area like Mali. America is not a country where little girls are sold into prostitution and sex trafficking like all the countries of southeast Asia (Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, Philippines, Vietnam). America is not a country where women are gang raped to pay for men’s crimes like Pakistan. America is not a country where women have unequal education rights like Afghanistan. So exactly what kind of “privileges” that American women may not all of a sudden have? Oh, fucking abortion because in a country where women are able to do everything a man can, where women have equal opportunities for education and pay and being able to wake up and be dressed as slutty as they want, women are fucking worried about not being able to kill babies so they don’t have to live with the consequences of their actions. Women in America are a fucking joke. I will cheer when President Trump defunds Planned Parenthood and its baby murdering factories.

Singer Alicia Keys also said the same idiotic thing, “We will not allow our bodies to be owned and controlled by men in government or men anywhere for that matter.” Every woman in America with their fucking stupid first world problems needs to educate their selves on how women in other countries live and be active to help support those women who are way worse off than any fucking woman in America would ever be. Women in the Middle East are beheaded for having sex before marriage. Guess how many American women would’ve been dead if women had no rights as the hate group Women’s March is claiming? I would say every fucking vagina marching would be dead. But America isn’t the Middle East. Aren’t you vaginas lucky you live here and not there? Aren’t you happy that the only complaint you have is not being able to murder babies you got yourself pregnant with? Women in America with their first world problems are indeed a fucking joke.

All in all, I’m pretty sure the hate group Women’s March won’t be the last hate group that springs up to try and divide and conquer this nation and it’s people. Unfortunately, the people of America isn’t all that smart, at least not the millions that are following such hate groups around like loyal dogs. But, there’s still hope. People can learn to start to recognize hate groups for what they really are and people can stop accommodating and condoning and especially tolerating such hate groups and their agendas. It’s time to stand up for yourself and not allow some fucking hate group like Women’s March to stand up for you because you’re a woman. I’m a woman and I say fuck no to the hate group Women’s March.

 
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Posted by on January 22, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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It’s All Relative

“My old friend, how have you been?” he asked me.

I shrugged. “I saved a fae. That’s about it.”

We laughed. Charly took my hand and kissed my fingers. He was always a sweet gentleman. “And how goes the world?”

I smiled at the kindness, but shook my head at the question. “The world is a mess,” I replied. “It’s different and devolving, but what can you do? They’re just mere mortals.” He nodded in agreement. “Besides, I’m more interested in how you have been. How are things here?”

He drank his tea the same as he has always taken it, a lot of grey with a bit of Earl, just a sprinkle of a fingernail or a hair to add flavor to the cup. “You’ve been gone a long while,” Charly said to me. “It’s been quiet. There hasn’t been much that has changed.”

“I think it’s good not much has changed.” I drank my tea, sweetened with a bit of honey. I didn’t drink tea like how I used to. Everything tasted better sweeter. “Even I haven’t changed that much. I’m still running away from things.”

We laughed and he shook his head. “Is it always so hard for you?” he asked me. “You deserve some bit of happiness in your life.”

“I’m working on it,” I replied. “I’m just impatient for things to get to where I want it to be. It’ll get there, eventually. The hardest things are the kinks,” I told him. He leaned in to listen. “There’s just a bit of annoyance.”

“What annoyance?” he asked. “It’s hard to imagine things irking you.”

I laughed. “Try becoming human. Everything is an annoyance then.” He chuckled. I wasn’t sure if he was ever human. From the moment I met him, he had never been to that world. “I think I’m stuck,” I began again. “It’s like a loop that keeps playing over and over again.”

“Tell me more,” Charly inquired.

“Remember Anna?”

He nodded. “How could I forget?” he asked me. “She’s still married to our best friend.”

“Yes, him.” I paused for a moment. “When they met, the three of us were dark and corrupted, terrible and horrid in our ways.” Charly grinned. He knew exactly how we were. We weren’t kind by any means. We killed and plundered and did such evil things, it was a wonder as to why we all were able to retire quite peacefully and safely in this world. “Well, when Demonico met Anna, she was sweet and innocent and unblemished. A spoiled princess she was. He was smitten from the moment he met her and he wooed her with words I’ve never heard from him ever.”

“Are you still upset about that?” His cheery brows twisted with concern.

I smiled and shook my head. “It was long ago. I’ve long moved past that now.” He nodded and I continued. “Well, the annoyance was exactly that and them and how it just replays even now. Must we all be sweet and innocent and unblemished to be protected? Sometimes I yearn for that, just someone to say they’d save me, even if I never required rescuing. It’s just the comfort of being loved enough that someone would that makes it good to hear.”

“I would save you,” Charly said.

“You did,” I replied. “And I thank you for it.”

He gave me a smile and I smiled back. He saved me long ago when my home was burned to the ground. There was nothing left but ashes and a trail of slime which led into the waters, back to from where they came out of the deep. They were beautiful with their jellied bodies and flashing blue and red lights, bio luminescent in the darkness of the night. I should’ve said something. I should’ve warned someone. I was a helpless brain dead fool who couldn’t remember herself, let alone the generations she lived in that small coastal town where everyone she grew to love grew old and died, leaving her behind.

“Anyhow, it’s different this time. The annoyances aren’t much now, only sometimes when my mind becomes frantic with frustrations and fears. I will wait to hear him say the things I want to hear when he’s ready, when he means it, and when it comes from him and from his heart. It might actually work this time, this happiness thing that eludes me so much. I might have it and I hope I do.”

“I hope you do too,” Charly told me. His expression was the same, a bit soft and sharp at the same time, but he was happy for me. “I am glad it is working out.”

I nodded. “It is working.” I was happy about it working too. Another thought came to mind. “About the fae,” I said. “She is mine. I don’t think any harm would come to her and she should very well stay out of trouble, but the moment something happens, please give me a call. I am keeping one here following her in twilight, but you know how faes are. She understands that the moment she disobeys, she will be under lock and key and a prisoner. I doubt she wants that as faes love their freedom all too much, even if it’s only an illusion.”

“There hasn’t been any accidents,” he assured me. “Mayfel will be fine.”

“And if you ever need gold, you know where I stash mine.”

He laughed. Charly didn’t need gold, ever. We all retired handsomely with enough to last us until the end of the world and beyond. “Thanks,” he answered with a smile. He paused for a moment. “Must you go so soon?”

I nodded. “If I stay longer, you know what will happen.”

“You eat the food in my fridge?” He grinned and I laughed.

“Yes! But no, really. My mind will drift and I wouldn’t be able to hold consciousness in the other place.”

“So lose consciousness,” Charly said to me. “It’s okay for you to relax a little.”

“You don’t know my life,” I replied. “Relaxing is an understatement. Losing consciousness is an understatement.” I laughed. “I have to go. There are many, many things I should do that I’m not doing. There are things I need to find again, old gods I need to be friends again with and so forth.”

“Old gods?” He wasn’t sure if I meant what he thought I meant or if I meant something else entirely. The latter was the correct one.

“The ones that can’t kill us,” I told him. “We let them be what they are. They don’t know what we are and I like it that way.”

He nodded in agreement. There was something freeing about not being noticed. “I’m sorry about not being there for you,” he told me.

I smiled and shook my head. “It’s past,” I said. “We already spoke of it.”

“I didn’t hear you.” He felt pained.

“I know,” I comforted him. “I don’t hold it against you. When I died, I didn’t die, I simply faded into the ether. He thought I died. Silly old gods and all.”

“I’m sorry you were alone.”

“Don’t be.” I got up and walked over and hugged him. “I was lonely then. I wasn’t alone.”

I despaired at the time. I was foolish and hurt at the time. I was suicidal at the time. But nothing happened. I died. He believed I died. And I sat there watching him turn back to his millions of constructs and all his human subjects whose potential apparently was greater than mine. I was glad he didn’t see me cry. I don’t remember how long I was crying. Through blurry eyes, there was a hand and I reached out for it. The man with the green eyes. He came to me when no other heard my cries.

“I’m not losing consciousness anymore,” I informed Charly with a laugh.

“Does that mean I’ll get to keep you longer?” he asked with a smile.

I shook my head. “No, it just means I have other things to do. I’ll see you soon.”

“Come again, Chao,” Charly said to me. I nodded and made a mental note to come again soonish.

 
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Posted by on November 30, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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How the Mid-Season Finale of Supernatural Made Me Cry

For anyone who has kept up with the tv series, Supernatural, the story of Sam and Dean has spanned eleven seasons. We’ve seen the boys hunt monsters and save people. We’ve seen the hell the boys have been through from not being able to save the people they set out to help to losing the people they love. And all the while, there was this hope that there was an endgame, that everything will be ok.

There are spoilers, so if someone’s not caught up to date or anything, please don’t read forward. If you do continue reading, consider yourself duly warned.

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Sam had been having visions from God every time he prayed. There was even a burning bush, like in the Bible. The visions were telling him that he had to return to the cage with Lucifer. And once there, he would find the answer to getting rid of the Darkness. Sam and Dean screwed up even bigger than normal. They let the Darkness out and now, she’s collecting the souls of mankind and growing stronger with each intake. Sam holds on to the hope that God is still here, that God is still watching and more importantly, that God still cares.

During the mid-season finale, Sam teams up with the King of Hell, Crowley, and his witch mother, Rowena, in a desperate move to call up Lucifer from the cage. Lucifer would know how God locked up the Darkness to begin with. Things obviously went wrong and Lucifer traps Sam in the cage with him. Rowena’s wards on the cage had worn off or something so Lucifer took Sam and wants to test out Sam’s meat suit – to possess him and walk the earth.

Sam still held on to the hope that God had a plan, that God was leading Sam to Lucifer’s cage, and that he was ready to do anything to save billions of lives, even to go back and stay in that cage forever. With Sam in the cage and Rowena’s wards no longer effective, Lucifer taunts Sam with the truth.

Lucifer: “Hey, Sam Winchester, you miss me? I bet you did.” [ Inhales deeply, exhales slowly ] “I have to say, you’re — you’re extraordinarily calm given the circumstances.”

Sam: “It’s pretty much exactly how God told me it was gonna be. Guess I just have to go with it and play my hand.”

Lucifer: [ Clicks tongue ] “And that would make so much sense if it was God that was doing the talking. You see, Sam, when the Darkness descended, the impact on Hell was massive. The cage was damaged. Through the fissures, I was able to reach out. It wasn’t God inside your head, Sam. It was me. So you see, he’s not with you. He’s never been with you. It was always just Me.”

I don’t know to how many people those words hit home. It hit real life. It hit our lives. “It wasn’t God inside your head. It was me. So you see, he’s not with you. He’s never been with you. It was always just me.” For me, those words summed up my entire life, even to today, and even to right now. It was never God inside my head. He’s not with me. He’s never been.

When I was incarcerated, I had a friend named Rachel. They took her mother to the segregated housing unit, the SHU, and every day at lunch, she would go jump on the the window sill to knock on the glass and talk to her mom. The first time was insane because she had to scream and figure out which cell her mom was in. And I worried she’d get caught and get thrown in there as well. So every day I would pray that she never got caught. Talking to people in the SHU wasn’t allowed. You get thrown in the SHU far away from whoever it was that you wanted to speak with. It was a spectacle at lunch every day for two weeks before they shipped her mom off and she never once got caught. And one day, I told her about how much I prayed that she wasn’t caught so she didn’t have to spend time in there. I told her that my prayers were answered because she never got into trouble for disobeying the rules. However, at the end of that conversation, I said to her that, “If all my prayers were answered the way I wanted them to be answered, then it may not have been God who answered them.” And I didn’t understand why I said that. I was always just a strange one. But it makes sense now. If all your prayers are always answered, it isn’t always God who is answering your prayers. And that’s exactly what Lucifer revealed to Sam.

I’m sitting here, alone in the dark, dog sitting my sister’s three dogs while she’s away for the weekend. I’m afraid of the dark. I’m terrified of dead things. And I have a strange phobia of zombies. It seems silly that I have so many fears, but I just finished watching a really bad movie on what I thought was going to be an exorcism. It was more or less, a botched production full of incredible actors. So am I still not afraid?

Fear comes and goes. I’ve really been with the dark for so long that I’m not even sure what I would be afraid of anymore. They’re just normal, every day things to me now. Sure, I can scare myself, think about something creepy hiding in a dark corner somewhere, but for the most part, I’m a bit beyond being afraid. It’s almost this strange familiarity, like family, and how you could have a horrific and violent family, but that part is irrelevant because it’s family.

Where is God?

I can’t speak for anyone else, but only for myself. I don’t have playtime with the dark and dark things because I actually like that kind of stuff or because I enjoy those kinds of things. It’s so easy to be wicked, to be mean and terrible to others, to plot evil and abuse everyone. Is that what I want, what I am? No. Somewhere, there’s a child that takes a step into the dark, unable to reach the light because they’re not tall enough, but walking forward and deeper into darkness, they can’t see anything behind them. Are their parents still right there following them? Why can’t a grown up just reach up and turn on the light? Why is it so dark? What’s the point of tripping over things in the darkness, of getting lost and scared and being lonely? Walk long enough, and eventually, you realize there’s no one behind you. No one following you. God is supposed to be everywhere. And still, He’s nowhere to be found.

Do you see me if I cut myself a hundred times? Can you hear me if I scream your name in your holy temple until my voice is gone? Will you see me if I cover your alter in the blood of your faithful followers? What can I do to get your attention? What can I do to have you take notice and answer me?

What are these feelings? All this destruction. Is it hatred? Is it malice? Is it anger? Is it jealousy? Is it vengeance? No. It’s pain. Pure and simple, it’s pain. People in pain. People wanting and hoping for something greater than themselves, and then coming to find out like Sam that there was never any hope. It didn’t exist. Sure, God exists, but He was never with us. He’s not with us. And that’s the saddest thing of all, to hope and see that that hope was nothing. That there was nothing.

 
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Posted by on December 12, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Life Lessons From High School

There was this tiny goth girl named Stephanie that I used to know in high school. She hated me. She thought I dated her ex-boyfriend, Tim, because we were always together. Tim and I were good friends. We were smart enough to pass our classes without actually paying attention, so we did whatever we wanted.

Stephanie and I actually became good friends later. I admit that I hated certain things because she liked them, like SpongeBob and this tall, super pale, probably only 100 pound emo goth vampire wannabe named Jay. -.-

Before Stephanie and I became good friends, I met a girl named Keera at Jay’s house. We were both tricked into going there. Keera thought she was going to the movies and my friend Will was supposed to be taking me home after school. Instead, he took me and Stephanie there.

Keera didn’t like Stephanie. The only thing Keera and I had in common was that we both didn’t like the same girl. As to why I didn’t like Stephanie, I don’t really know. I didn’t like a lot of people back then, even less now, but Keera and I bonded over our mutual annoyance at being tricked and at our mutual dislike of a girl whom everyone liked and we didn’t understand why.

Keera always talked bad about Stephanie. I usually just went along and listened, not stopping her from ranting. I was older than everyone. Stephanie was sixteen or seventeen and Keera was a year younger than her. On and on, we’d talk bad about a girl we didn’t even know, a girl we disliked for absolutely no damn reason at all.

Stephanie had a bad home life. She got a job at Dunkin’ Donuts and worked hard. She eventually got a car and moved out of her parents’ house.

I remember how Keera used to make fun of Stephanie and her job. It was odd to me because Keera never had a job, didn’t want to work, smoked weed and drank and smoke cigarettes, and had no foreseeable future, but Stephanie had a future and she was working hard toward that future. It was silly for someone who did nothing nothing to improve their life to make fun of someone who was trying very hard to improve their life.

Stephanie and I became close friends after I finally dispelled her relationship thoughts of me and Tim. She trusted me with her secrets. We swore to be sisters. And when I couldn’t hold my end to always protect her, I gave her protection over to Ganesh, the elephant god she adored.

Unhappy people sucks your life and makes you unhappy too. I should’ve seen the warning signs. Unhappy people make fun of people they don’t know. They find any excuse to make someone else look bad so they can feel better about their selves. Keera was very unhappy. And around her, I was unhappy too. I was unhappy for a long time, a time lasting longer than the actual years I knew Keera.

I lost touch with Stephanie after a while, but I was friends with Keera for a long time. If I could change it, I’d rather be friends with Stephanie and lose touch with Keera.

When making friends, choose people who are going somewhere, who have goals, who want to do something with their lives. Don’t choose people who want you to sit with them because they don’t want to get up and move.

 
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Posted by on December 7, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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