Went to an Anxiety-Havers Support Group Meeting, but when I walked up, the glue holding thr "V" fell off, revealing it to be an "T" and long story short they hit me with one of those big hammers for making mochi
everyone you ever knew is on the phone and wants to talk about that minor social faux pas at the mall you had with a complete stranger you will never see again. also you're high and everyones going to scream at you
The talk of the town, huh? So what you're saying is that in order to become famous, I need to keep doing awful irredeemable things to the point where being a monster no longer gives me anxiety.
Or you're suffering long term PTSD from childhood trauma and it has nothing to do with anything you've done and you should never be blamed nor feel guilty for it and no one knows but you.
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