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Dread Diary Day

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Old 02-28-2018, 03:15 AM
sdenyer (Offline)
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Default Dread Diary Day

I have not been one of those people destined to be free. Instead I have been pinned as a likely profitable person to experiment on. To gather data from, all the characteristics have been checked off as a good source of information on how a human deals with adversity. A training path set up progressing through all developmental stages. This is not living in a free society. I am an American female that has been conceived. All moves monitored and notated in files. Adjustments have been made, concocted isolation has made a mutant convert, now me. These additives, these advances parts designed by man, others may still be attached to original score but not impossible. Am I still protected by human rights laws. Will I be legally excepted as human. There are so many tricks involved in this maze of investigation. This game of survival. The traps set to see how one manages around negativity, Which ones will crumble which ones still live on is specifically a target question. I am one of those who still lives, which is troubling and noble. Unpleasant realization of defining the trouble of living in a simulated world with those aware of the game, in words, other players. The dark hand stacked with all cards, The sensory deprived hand lags behind. I want to say eye. Skilless and skinless and constantly leaning on crutches has not obscured the fact that throughout their experiences, which are yours, a persona themselves are ghostly.

I do want my freedom, I fight on, my mind amputied from my god given body parts.
It is now 26 days into the count of 30 for major change. The hand must be identified with its form.


Last edited by sdenyer; 02-28-2018 at 03:40 AM..
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Old 02-28-2018, 08:01 AM
Beesauce (Offline)
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Stop there. Nothing more is needed.
I'll track, er take it
i didnt do it, except
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Old 03-02-2018, 01:34 PM
spshane (Offline)
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I'm just outside. I'm not there yet.
I smell what they're cooking in the kitchen. I want to be there, but I'm moisture condensing against the window. Soon I'll drip down to the ledge and will be shat on by a bird, and I'll forget the kitchen ever existed. The sea has no memory.
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