Can you actually not comprehend how hurtful it is for you to tell me what a lovely time you're having with megapenny, while I'm sitting here so alone that I'm longing to die? Are you really that oblivious to other people's feelings? Do you not care about me at all; am I correct in feeling like you only use me to get megapenny to want you, in the same twisted way you want her?
Or are you deliberately trying to hurt me so I'll go away and take the choice off your table?
Nothing. My mind is blank and my eyes refuse to stay open. Just the remnants of a Madonna song come to mind. Something outside sounds like a crying puppy. Piddled on the floor and got swatted with a rolled-up magazine. Probably a catalogue. Okay, to blog. This is a blog post. The topic today is the thundercats who are scampering back and forth, cries of "Mrr!" issuing from their pink mouths. What makes the cats thunder? I didn't know where they were all night; they sneak around on little cloud toes that don't quite touch the ground and could have passed me one hundred times. In the dark I was alone. Now they thunder. It feels like a thunder of joy; kitties gleefully thundering past shouting "Mrr! Mrr!" Occasionally one stops with me, to survey the milieu, and to remind me that I'm special. Then he leaps off and resumes thundering, "Mew!" When you have a mood disorder I guess it's kind of like being a thundercat. When you're down, low a...
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