Shitposting - Typing to See

[BigJimsWornOutTires]

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Different thoughts leap to mind when I read the first threads on this cesspool late at night when I awaken inside this compound south of the uranium enrichment laboratory here in Antarctica, dubbed, This Isn't Covid-19 Laboratory. Sure, they could've coined it differently, but when no one gives a fuck because this being the coldest region on this shithole planet, the name is pointless. Although the Russians eight kilometers down the white windy road take pride in their titles. For example, the sandwich shop I visit in the morning during lunch hour. Nuclear Subs. Ugh. Fucking Russians with their wittiness.

Deep breath. Don't push too hard. Let it slide out. The solution my brain corresponds to before beginning the shitpost. Although some days I have not much to say due to a lack of conscious presence inside my body, rather, inside one of your heads. Ugh. Side profiles have nothing on me. Can you imagine such reality? Having to be inside a person's skull observing trifle little thoughts and humorless pornographic imagery? Ugh, boogers. If I told you the things some of you meditate and fantasize, you'd probably not come back here again. A self-restriction. A true ban. Which basically is walking away and never signing on again. Thus giving a mod the opportunity to larp on your behalf. Ugh. Jeepers creepers, eh?

Last week, I was reading the comments on a thread and without will, I'm inside that guy's head. He's crying! What the fuck? I reflected to myself. Who the fuck weeps inside the conscious mind? He does! Ugh. So quickly, I abandon that space with force, but this time, ended up inside a person a block down the road. She wasn't a neighbor though. There were no images of him inside her lobes. Nor soul. As if, he didn't exist. But then I discovered not many images of non-family relations there neither. Because she doesn't leave her home very often. And she's high-tier prime real estate. Ugh! Sad. She lives on apps and behind cheap cameras. The closest she got to sex was with her Mom's friend's son that visited from Canada. But it didn't escalate because he kept saying the wrong things. She's fixated on herself. And what she wants to hear, is rather nonsensical.

You're so beautiful and smart. Can I just sit here and watch you all day?

Ugh. Double-feature jeepers creepers! She gives a whole new meaning to disturbed. Who the fuck even thinks like that? She does! I assured myself before jumping again but just when I was transferring, I recalled hearing footsteps. Inside her head! Footsteps! Ugh. Fucking people are the strangest.

Nonetheless, I feel like an asshole for sharing these intimate thoughts with you all. But I don't feel that I'm violating their privacy because I too am violated 24/7. Yet I can't see the face, or faces, but I know if I can do this...then others have been with me this entire time.

Metaphorically speaking that is. Not like any of that is veritable. Ugh. Although waking up in Antarctica late at night every day is not where my vessel resides. Metaphorically speaking that is.

 

[isis_Bleach]

What am I thinking rn?

 

[Deleted member 14455]

What am I thinking rn?

Pussy

 

[Deleted member 5786]

 

[.👽.]

sry bro this site fucked up my brain i can't read all if that even if i want to

 

[BigJimsWornOutTires]

What am I thinking rn?

Failing.

 

[BigJimsWornOutTires]

View attachment 1258099

Ugh. He's pussy whipped and I'm happy for him. In an asshole way that is. Because what's cinched to that pussy not yet revealed. Ugh!

 

[ChristianChad]

 

[sorrowfulsad]

View attachment 1258082
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Different thoughts leap to mind when I read the first threads on this cesspool late at night when I awaken inside this compound south of the uranium enrichment laboratory here in Antarctica, dubbed, This Isn't Covid-19 Laboratory. Sure, they could've coined it differently, but when no one gives a fuck because this being the coldest region on this shithole planet, the name is pointless. Although the Russians eight kilometers down the white windy road take pride in their titles. For example, the sandwich shop I visit in the morning during lunch hour. Nuclear Subs. Ugh. Fucking Russians with their wittiness.

Deep breath. Don't push too hard. Let it slide out. The solution my brain corresponds to before beginning the shitpost. Although some days I have not much to say due to a lack of conscious presence inside my body, rather, inside one of your heads. Ugh. Side profiles have nothing on me. Can you imagine such reality? Having to be inside a person's skull observing trifle little thoughts and humorless pornographic imagery? Ugh, boogers. If I told you the things some of you meditate and fantasize, you'd probably not come back here again. A self-restriction. A true ban. Which basically is walking away and never signing on again. Thus giving a mod the opportunity to larp on your behalf. Ugh. Jeepers creepers, eh?

Last week, I was reading the comments on a thread and without will, I'm inside that guy's head. He's crying! What the fuck? I reflected to myself. Who the fuck weeps inside the conscious mind? He does! Ugh. So quickly, I abandon that space with force, but this time, ended up inside a person a block down the road. She wasn't a neighbor though. There were no images of him inside her lobes. Nor soul. As if, he didn't exist. But then I discovered not many images of non-family relations there neither. Because she doesn't leave her home very often. And she's high-tier prime real estate. Ugh! Sad. She lives on apps and behind cheap cameras. The closest she got to sex was with her Mom's friend's son that visited from Canada. But it didn't escalate because he kept saying the wrong things. She's fixated on herself. And what she wants to hear, is rather nonsensical.

You're so beautiful and smart. Can I just sit here and watch you all day?

Ugh. Double-feature jeepers creepers! She gives a whole new meaning to disturbed. Who the fuck even thinks like that? She does! I assured myself before jumping again but just when I was transferring, I recalled hearing footsteps. Inside her head! Footsteps! Ugh. Fucking people are the strangest.

Nonetheless, I feel like an asshole for sharing these intimate thoughts with you all. But I don't feel that I'm violating their privacy because I too am violated 24/7. Yet I can't see the face, or faces, but I know if I can do this...then others have been with me this entire time.

Metaphorically speaking that is. Not like any of that is veritable. Ugh. Although waking up in Antarctica late at night every day is not where my vessel resides. Metaphorically speaking that is.

words of a prophet read everything

 

[BigJimsWornOutTires]

words of a prophet read everything

Times have changed. And so has the methods.