These were my sentiments as well, but I obviously achieved this more quickly because of my general head start and superiorly deductive nature.
As much as I loved writing into a journal that gave me sass, I'm not too sure how I feel about it after discovering that the pages are alternately lined with flint and steel. Thus, my own burning passion to interpret life's events has stagnated to the threat of hour old tea. This is unfortunate, for I haven't had an opportunity to write about my first ever panic attack/nervous breakdown.
Everything is brought to you by Fjohürs Lykkewe.
So, I guess I'll just say, I hope your happy with your victory, skiz.
Everything is brought to you by Fjohürs Lykkewe.
Noble gets you nowhere.
You get invited to mary's next wedding, guest of honour and all that. You're just about to give a rousing speech when meg stabs you in the spine, severs your head and stitches it to Olegl's body in some kinda twisted irony deal, which effects everyone deeply but only really serves to stop an established character dead in his tracks.
Don't go to that wedding, mate. Don't say you weren't warned.
I'm fine with everything but the part about having OlegL attached to me.
Respect my lack of authority.
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