i am so close to going over there just to flagellate you mercilessly. then head home and relish in the satisfaction of causing you pain. albeit mere physical injury that could only cause temporary harm. but it should suffice in quelling my dangerously calm rage that i keep bottled ever so cautiously. here's your mushroom cloud, bitch.
could it possibly get more ironic than this ?
somehow someone somewhere just had to come along and satisfy my morbid curiosity. honestly, i could do without the extra knowledge. yet, either by fate, or some sick jester who mocks me furiously at being so goddamn naive, i am informed of things i'd rather not know. please tell me why this happens ?