bulimia nervosa - but with words.

I seemed to be in a particularly affable mood until today.

Chester is like a spider that silked me still, it's just I've been in trapped the wrong position. I can either let myself get eaten or try to wriggle free and find something else.

I was shouted at this afternoon by an unmitigating tyrant. He obviously felt the need to lay stress on a rigid adherence to the details of his forms and methods. Whatever.
Give a shit?

Actually, I dont know why I'm making this all flowery - he was a proper cunt.

I feel that, and PLEASE - correct me if I'm wrong, that I should be 'allowed' (and I stress that word because its so fucking ridiculous that I might not be) to speak to anyone I want to about WHATEVER I feel I need to, act the way I see fit, wear what I like, drink what I choose WHEREVER I choose and not, under any circumstances, be dictated to by someone who has NO concept of the real world because they take too many fucking hallucinogenics!! Fuck off please.

Its been an eventful week, although I don't really care to expatiate on it I had a sudden urge to write something down.

Doing this is like vomiting when youve been feeling sick all day. It's like a fullstop. New paragraph.