Fuck Off

There are a few images or symbols that speak to me of a deep rooted sort of disgust. A kind of disgust that a child who was molested or a woman who was raped would feel. The image that I associate with it is generic, in the sense a certain aspect of some of the very commonly recurring patterns or themes in nature causes this nausea to rise in me.

Numerous spherical objects grouped together; static is bad enough, but if they form a moving, writhing mass I go through hell. During my very very very low moments I have been bombarded with images of innumerable spherical disgusting objects under my skin and them bursting out. I could almost drown in my own puke now.

The reason I am saying this now is because, this, you miserable piece of shit, is exactly how I feel when I think of the subhuman scum that you are, and that I was cursed enough to witness your perverseness. Associating it with child molestation is right, because when you were 18, I must have been just two years old. Maybe you did whip that rotting piece of meat in your hand and jack off in front of young children too. I wouldn't put that past you, you mongrel scum, you who could spew spiteful curses on a mere child, you are capable of anything.

Rot in hell!