Hahahahahaahahhahhahah

[height]

I got a reprimand for smashing a hospital stafff into furniture. The doctor told me he got hurt. jfl. I talked to another guy and he got 1 year for punching someone he had to go to forensics. i get away with everything because i’m aspie. They believed the story that i didn’t understand that youre not supposed to disobey staff

 

[2d v2]

tales from this room

 

[height]

tales from this room

 

[MRD]

Which country are you being a window licking retard in, by the way?

 

[height]

Which country are you being a window licking retard in, by the way?

Your moms pussy lip

 

[2d v2]

View attachment 1889019

You when your make your daring escape

 

[MRD]

Your moms pussy lip

If it's the UK - and I watched your video you foreign sounding cunt - and you're abusing our mental health system because of your cringeworthy attention seeking faggot immature shit: you're a fucking prick. Muh medication, muh attention seeking. Send this cunt back to Ukraine to go fight for that Jew Zelensky.

 

[MRD]

Also: you don't even lift you fucking degenerate awkward bodied cunt. No lattisimus dorsai, no medial deltoids. Probably some mongol strength that'll soon go when your jaw gets rocked. Real mentalcels get 6 month assessments on section 3 not faggot section 2 assessment attention seeking bullshit. Trust me: mentalcels like you are poseurs. Fuck off out of here with that shit. You're a try hard. Nothing more. Also you look like shit you barrell bodied cunt.

 

[mentally]

Tales with different content, but certainly interesting. I also have some adventures related to visiting the doctor.


__________________________________
https://zdrowypakiet.pl/blog/pakiety-medyczne-dla-firm-korzysci

 

[height]

If it's the UK - and I watched your video you foreign sounding cunt - and you're abusing our mental health system because of your cringeworthy attention seeking faggot immature shit: you're a fucking prick. Muh medication, muh attention seeking. Send this cunt back to Ukraine to go fight for that Jew Zelensky.

nobody cares

 

[MRD]

nobody cares

That's right you dumb cunt: nobody cares about your trips to the mental wards and attention seeking.

Height walked through the putrid streets of Chinatown, the nauseating stench of dead cats and chickens blended obscenely with the cheap perfume of slanty eyed transvestite hookers. And every few feet a choking cloud of carbon monoxide drenched cigarette smoke exhaled by the busted faces of oriental slaves who spent twenty hours a day slaving over the slop known as Chinese Food and the other four playing Mahjong and picking the lice out of their pubes. In the midst of all this colourful confusion, Height saw them in a store front window; 4 inch lifts in some white soled elevator trainers, with “sport” written on the side with a hint of metallic paint. Height entered the shop and was met by a toothless gook who looked about a hundred and ten years old. He wanted a hundred pounds for the trainers and Height countered with 30. After some loud bickering the old man said sixy and the two men shook hands. Height walked back out into the mean streets of Chinatown with a lilt in his step. Excitedly, he entered the Dragon's Chef Authentic Mandarin Cuisine restaurant and stole into the Men's Room. The rancid odour of decades old urine didn't bother him as clumsily pulled his new prize out of it's plain brown wrapping and placed it upon his feet. Nevermind the stench emanating from his bacteria laden cheesy feet or that his socks had practically melted/meshed into his feet after months of constant wear. He looked into the mirror couldn’t even meet his eyes.



Height wasn't always so autistic. As a child, Height, or Balchekov as he was then known in the rancid backward Eastern European shithole he was from- was neither here nor there. Neither bully nor victim. A nobody who slid through through cracks. Teachers forgot his name and girls didn't know he existed. When he was fourteen all that changed. Drinking his own semen, as well as that of his father’s and creepy late night uncle’s, gave him somewhat of a growth spurt. Balchekov changed his name to Height and devoted his life to being a faggot with a fetish for holding on to the ceiling while being sucked off by dudes. He did it all: the upside down 69 with his feet touching the top of the door frames. The shirt lifting in the lunchtime parking lots in nearby accounting offices. He even tried to do it in the town hall but was 2-3 inches off grabbing on to the chandelier. If only… if only he could find an extra 3 inches. Or even 4….


Then he found himself in the city. It looked promising at first. But then plans fell apart like houses of cards in that unforgiving wind called Reality. First he was beaten up by several John’s. Bears, he called them – they easily overpowered him. So he turned to medication and getting locked up in mental institutions when he couldn’t handle being a bitch. The plans to get a long term job crumpled. The hopes of owning a sex store were dashed. Height found himself hustling a couple of quick hits of crack in men's rooms in the back of porn theaters. A setback he called it. Hard times became Height’s companions. He was 18 then 22 then 28 but swore he felt like18. It wasn't over. He needed an angle, he told himself. And he found it. That day. In Chinatown. He found it.

The elevator trainers. Now – he was going to finally touch that ceiling. The faggot was going to claim his crown. The shmoes and johns he could meet with his new found 'edge'. The dream might finally become a reality...

 

[190cm90kg]

Also: you don't even lift you fucking degenerate awkward bodied cunt. No lattisimus dorsai, no medial deltoids. Probably some mongol strength that'll soon go when your jaw gets rocked. Real mentalcels get 6 month assessments on section 3 not faggot section 2 assessment attention seeking bullshit. Trust me: mentalcels like you are poseurs. Fuck off out of here with that shit. You're a try hard. Nothing more. Also you look like shit you barrell bodied cunt.

 

[Deleted member 19576]

That's right you dumb cunt: nobody cares about your trips to the mental wards and attention seeking.

Height walked through the putrid streets of Chinatown, the nauseating stench of dead cats and chickens blended obscenely with the cheap perfume of slanty eyed transvestite hookers. And every few feet a choking cloud of carbon monoxide drenched cigarette smoke exhaled by the busted faces of oriental slaves who spent twenty hours a day slaving over the slop known as Chinese Food and the other four playing Mahjong and picking the lice out of their pubes. In the midst of all this colourful confusion, Height saw them in a store front window; 4 inch lifts in some white soled elevator trainers, with “sport” written on the side with a hint of metallic paint. Height entered the shop and was met by a toothless gook who looked about a hundred and ten years old. He wanted a hundred pounds for the trainers and Height countered with 30. After some loud bickering the old man said sixy and the two men shook hands. Height walked back out into the mean streets of Chinatown with a lilt in his step. Excitedly, he entered the Dragon's Chef Authentic Mandarin Cuisine restaurant and stole into the Men's Room. The rancid odour of decades old urine didn't bother him as clumsily pulled his new prize out of it's plain brown wrapping and placed it upon his feet. Nevermind the stench emanating from his bacteria laden cheesy feet or that his socks had practically melted/meshed into his feet after months of constant wear. He looked into the mirror couldn’t even meet his eyes.



Height wasn't always so autistic. As a child, Height, or Balchekov as he was then known in the rancid backward Eastern European shithole he was from- was neither here nor there. Neither bully nor victim. A nobody who slid through through cracks. Teachers forgot his name and girls didn't know he existed. When he was fourteen all that changed. Drinking his own semen, as well as that of his father’s and creepy late night uncle’s, gave him somewhat of a growth spurt. Balchekov changed his name to Height and devoted his life to being a faggot with a fetish for holding on to the ceiling while being sucked off by dudes. He did it all: the upside down 69 with his feet touching the top of the door frames. The shirt lifting in the lunchtime parking lots in nearby accounting offices. He even tried to do it in the town hall but was 2-3 inches off grabbing on to the chandelier. If only… if only he could find an extra 3 inches. Or even 4….


Then he found himself in the city. It looked promising at first. But then plans fell apart like houses of cards in that unforgiving wind called Reality. First he was beaten up by several John’s. Bears, he called them – they easily overpowered him. So he turned to medication and getting locked up in mental institutions when he couldn’t handle being a bitch. The plans to get a long term job crumpled. The hopes of owning a sex store were dashed. Height found himself hustling a couple of quick hits of crack in men's rooms in the back of porn theaters. A setback he called it. Hard times became Height’s companions. He was 18 then 22 then 28 but swore he felt like18. It wasn't over. He needed an angle, he told himself. And he found it. That day. In Chinatown. He found it.

The elevator trainers. Now – he was going to finally touch that ceiling. The faggot was going to claim his crown. The shmoes and johns he could meet with his new found 'edge'. The dream might finally become a reality...

I pretend that I read all of this.

 

[height]

That's right you dumb cunt: nobody cares about your trips to the mental wards and attention seeking.

Height walked through the putrid streets of Chinatown, the nauseating stench of dead cats and chickens blended obscenely with the cheap perfume of slanty eyed transvestite hookers. And every few feet a choking cloud of carbon monoxide drenched cigarette smoke exhaled by the busted faces of oriental slaves who spent twenty hours a day slaving over the slop known as Chinese Food and the other four playing Mahjong and picking the lice out of their pubes. In the midst of all this colourful confusion, Height saw them in a store front window; 4 inch lifts in some white soled elevator trainers, with “sport” written on the side with a hint of metallic paint. Height entered the shop and was met by a toothless gook who looked about a hundred and ten years old. He wanted a hundred pounds for the trainers and Height countered with 30. After some loud bickering the old man said sixy and the two men shook hands. Height walked back out into the mean streets of Chinatown with a lilt in his step. Excitedly, he entered the Dragon's Chef Authentic Mandarin Cuisine restaurant and stole into the Men's Room. The rancid odour of decades old urine didn't bother him as clumsily pulled his new prize out of it's plain brown wrapping and placed it upon his feet. Nevermind the stench emanating from his bacteria laden cheesy feet or that his socks had practically melted/meshed into his feet after months of constant wear. He looked into the mirror couldn’t even meet his eyes.



Height wasn't always so autistic. As a child, Height, or Balchekov as he was then known in the rancid backward Eastern European shithole he was from- was neither here nor there. Neither bully nor victim. A nobody who slid through through cracks. Teachers forgot his name and girls didn't know he existed. When he was fourteen all that changed. Drinking his own semen, as well as that of his father’s and creepy late night uncle’s, gave him somewhat of a growth spurt. Balchekov changed his name to Height and devoted his life to being a faggot with a fetish for holding on to the ceiling while being sucked off by dudes. He did it all: the upside down 69 with his feet touching the top of the door frames. The shirt lifting in the lunchtime parking lots in nearby accounting offices. He even tried to do it in the town hall but was 2-3 inches off grabbing on to the chandelier. If only… if only he could find an extra 3 inches. Or even 4….


Then he found himself in the city. It looked promising at first. But then plans fell apart like houses of cards in that unforgiving wind called Reality. First he was beaten up by several John’s. Bears, he called them – they easily overpowered him. So he turned to medication and getting locked up in mental institutions when he couldn’t handle being a bitch. The plans to get a long term job crumpled. The hopes of owning a sex store were dashed. Height found himself hustling a couple of quick hits of crack in men's rooms in the back of porn theaters. A setback he called it. Hard times became Height’s companions. He was 18 then 22 then 28 but swore he felt like18. It wasn't over. He needed an angle, he told himself. And he found it. That day. In Chinatown. He found it.

The elevator trainers. Now – he was going to finally touch that ceiling. The faggot was going to claim his crown. The shmoes and johns he could meet with his new found 'edge'. The dream might finally become a reality...

Keep writing essays you obsessed dog

 

[MRD]

Keep writing essays you obsessed dog

Suck your mom you dirty Euro foreign invader cunt. Get the fuck out of the UK if you're going to scam the mental health system.

 

[Deleted member 4362]

Lol

 

[isis_Bleach]

I got a reprimand for smashing a hospital stafff into furniture. The doctor told me he got hurt. jfl. I talked to another guy and he got 1 year for punching someone he had to go to forensics. i get away with everything because i’m aspie. They believed the story that i didn’t understand that youre not supposed to disobey staff

i wuz gonna throw a chair through the one way mirror in my rehab (fuck them looking at me) so i could escape rehab and finally go to an real mental hospital
i actually like being locked up, when it was time to go i didnt wanna go i wanted to refuse leaving

 

[Looks Forever]

Legit!

 

[isis_Bleach]

Legit!

bro
i need legit advice
is it over for me
consideirng all aspects btw