I go on walks, not for myself but in spite of others. I lay in the basement for hours, reading and lifting not for myself, but for the fame that I am delusioned by. I go on walks, I lay in the basement for hours.
I would never hit a woman, but I'll surely creep one or a few out. I would never ****- I would never hit a woman. I would never **** anything other than myself.
Tis the one act I shall do for myself, and in death let it be known the birds and flowers that blossom in Spring are Christopher Marlowe, and I am Shakespeare.