The funny thing about losing my sanity at twenty-one is that in this facility this sanatorium in Santa Ana time never ceased to occur Operation Desert Storm took place while I slept gathering energy to return to the sane world of eaters of khat leaves and other controlled substances the people need representatives elected officials to tell them how to live like sheep in a corral
Society like sheep enjoy the company of people who fit in particularly sane persons not locked inside an asylum for crimes involving the harming of oneself or others as likely Jesús wept not wanting to drink bleach as a way out of hell but here he was farting asshole of noxious fumes while we ate in a room common preventative liberal by design to keep odors within even anal canals
Call it what you will but no one befriended this suicide case bitten once people become shy even non-sane persons like myself but mercy leaves much to be desired in a world without God outside our thoughts of Him understand I felt so much fucking sympathy for Jesús but starting miserable friendships inside an asylum like befriending Circe notably may create tension when my real friends transform into swine grim
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