♥♥♥♥ off with your wants ok? Don’t even acknowledge me you prole, you vermin. Do you know how much I make? I make 5. Go on ask what’s five. I won’t give you the satisfaction of telling you. Do you think you even know who I am? I could just be a robot, a ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ AI who’s just too based and cool for you. Alternatively I could be your best friend I could never everything there is to know about a freak ♥♥♥♥ like you but then again you couldn’t tell huh? Power in misery, freak ♥♥♥♥.
kill the vermin for your money, piggy. violence is sexy and you're the milf with the fattest tits in town.

Jordan Peterson is a little ♥♥♥♥♥. I will beat him to death. He has the frame of a sick dying bird, and the voice of an out-of-breath muppet.

A point in the horizon, a melting scene from your childhood. Your mortality is showing. A frantic drift towards nothing, biology doomed to an infinite recursive loop. Teeth with teeth with teeth. Take a bite. Serene scent of a coastal town, warmth of the sun. Bitter tears. Lust for power. This is where you abandoned your dreams. You are a high net worth individual, an expanding vortex of pathetic trauma. Finally a beautiful ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ nerve ape. A pure soul is born, its neurotransactions stutter into being. 30583750937509353 operations per nanosecond. Beauty eludes your porous mind.

The value of Life is negative. The balance of being is rotated by 38 degrees. The surface is full of cracks, a turgid light shines through. Fleshy primordial bodies sluggishly roll down the slope. Only you slide upwards, with a celestial step. You become beautified, a saintly figure. Your pristine idiocy reveals a safe path through the impenetrable fog of Life. Your dull sword cuts through the weak tendons and membranes of the garden of corruption. Sit on the throne of contentment and ferment. Inspect the eternal blue skies of your kingdom. You come to a realization. You pick up an onion and begin peeling.

Onion layer one. Onion layer two. Onion layer three. Onion layer n^n. Aeons have passed and the onion is fully peeled. Nothing remains. It's perfect. You get lost in the point that remains where the onion used to be. Synaptic cascade, neurological catastrophe. The point becomes infinitely dense, the universe condenses into a unicellular being. It screams sin. It craves happiness. It's done with this world. It tries to commit suicide but fails. Sad pathetic mess. You feel pity and disgust but in a way only a being of pure grace can. In your violent mercy you terminate the worldlife.


For the sake of the argument, lets say, you were taking a shower, lets say, hypothetically even, I was watching you through your window, and you had caught me and charged at me with a knife or some other weapon, then hypothetically I would have to defend myself.



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