I think I caught a case of Vicky. Or maybe I've been thinking some wild shit. The universe, reincarnation and some videos I watched of some retards tripping bad on Salvia. Star gazed a little, got a little sentimental. They say things about lives that a soul traverses. Does the snake eat it's tail? Sure but it doesn't have to be this way. Heaven isn't a place, it's a place we make from our imagination. The only rule to get there is to not hold any baggage. Let go of everything in your mind that's material and hold the ones you love in your heart. So when the soul goes through our bodies into the higher plain when death arrives, the last place you end up forever is the place you envisioned to exist so life is not something to be lived again but in the higher celestial where your consciousness encompasses peace and tranquility.
Why must I say this in the limelight of wrath? Because Vicky. I hate you but deep down inside of me I know that if you didn't go through the perversions set upon you. Your pureness would have never evaporated. The usage of substances would have never set forth has a complementary thing. Your vision of adventure not just the exploration of abandoned places but the beyond would come into focus. Adventure of a lifetime, or perhaps in the voyage with waves but when the storm passes you wash up at an island of abundant life force. So when the time comes when I meet the celestial I would allow you in the gates of my heaven. I would remember you then even though I will possibly forget you in this life time.
I know it's a ship of union so far past in time. That the era never even existed when you once stepped foot into the real world. Perhaps even with 5 levels ahead of me. But with the way you have grown as everyone else does I know that there wasn't the evil that flutters so loudly now. I do not know you well. I do not have the essays and pictures of what you have experienced. But I do know what is really on the inside of you. And it's a deep hole. Occasionally if not more I ask why did I have to be tortured by you? Because now I'm stuck thinking of your existence because of how limited the internet has become with the combination of the direction society has shifted. If I fell for another girl more vibrant, more of my taste you would have been forgotten by now.
But Vicky as mastered as I am of my own senses, body and mind I am not some being who can step outside of this bubble to forget this one. I am stuck. Doll was the one who I align myself to. She has told me this haven of mine that I so desperately need will come. It will be my new home. You know what I'm talking about. Until that day comes I'm stuck on you. Seething, obsessing, hating and on rare nights adoring you for the actual girl you are. And as much as I sexually incel over you.
We would have some great sex. Not the angry fuck, not the naughty fuck. You know that song by Marvin Gaye - Sexual Healing? I know you don't like black people but look pass his color and you'd know how bad I just want to be loved to no end.
Like goddamn. There is that something in your soul I just would love to mix my chemistry with. Like, take it slow kind of romance. Vicky if we had a couple nights. The whole day we just talk shit over, I help you get off the substances. We just talk about some deep shit then eventually turn that intimacy toward each other so that night we don't have sex we just gently hold one another to get a feel for each other's soul. The next day we wake up, we do our little deep talk shit, fuck around on what we like and then when night rolls around we just take everything real slow. Tip toes into the water. Look each other and just gaze. And everything thrust is nothing but actual intimacy not just because it feels good or it's naughty. Because it's what actual love is.
I promise you. I know what I'm talking about. That one night would change your life because I know you never had that EVER. That's why you are so broken. You never had a boyfriend. Wanna know what you had? A piece of shit faggot that got what he deserved. If I could resurrect him I'd kill him over and over for what he did to you. Let him come back to life. I fucking pray that happens so I can beat the fuck out of him until he fucking dies. Then repeat the process so him coming back to life is literal hell of me beating the fuck out of him with various objects.
You were never loved. And despite the next nigga you get with. No matter how well he fucks you, he can't fuck like me not that I know because I'm a virgin but I know what love is. So really it's a lost that you ghosted me the way you did. But my point still stand above this rage paragraph.
I couldn't help myself.
