I’m a paradox. I want to be happy, but I think of things that make me sad. I’m lazy, yet I’m ambitious. I don’t like myself, but I also love who I am. I say I don’t care, but I really do. I crave attention, but reject it when it comes my way. I’m a conflicted contradiction. If I can’t figure myself out, there’s no way anyone else has.
Every time I think of the black market, I actually imagine a market, with little stalls selling illegal things like nuclear weapons and organs.
I THOUGHT I WAS ALONE
WAIT SO THAT’S NOT WHAT IT IS
"QUICK THE COPS ARE COMING!" *everyone frantically tries to collapse their trestle tables*
Perhaps I held you too tightly.
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