Getting Hacked and the verdict of THE FAN

In the moments where we reside locked in the bounds of society, we begin to come to the realization that we like sheep, led by masters we cannot stand, constantly moving. Forever changing our fur is but a reflection of our outwards appearance, shaved by the Sheppard whom we call our leader. Us being truly red only displays the despair spilled from the husk,  prison or life we ask, as if we have an answer. We are led. We feed. We sleep. We rot. Locked away we die, lonely, never truly feeling, for we can never really touch. Emotion is but a play thing of the mind, a parasite that runs our eternal soul, limiting its boundaries more so than the hands that guide us. We reside in chains and those who break them are mad, crazed, deranged and locked away. But then again that's only what society says...

      That, my dears, was Dezi. This is prolly the only kind of hacking I will tolerate. Sometimes. Yeah.

      That, my dears, is what goes on in my mind. By the way, you are my dears as well as Victory's, although she specifies otherwise.

      Biznatch, get out. We should be doing research on the Galapagos islands. They are MY dears, Desmond. These are the people I adore for their devotion to my rants. You are nothing. NOTHING.

      A counterpoint on your final words. Our conversations have specified otherwise (; That my dears, is my final argument. Dezi Out!

      This is why most people think I'm lesbian. Because I run away from this. ^^^ Biznatch, what are you doing with your life?

      (refer to top of the page)

GTFO BIZNATCH THIS IS MY BLOG FRACK IT. YOU ARE SCUM FROM THE VERY BOTTOM OF THE DARKEST CREVICE IN THE MARINAS TRENCH.

      Let the fans decide. (;

THE FAN HAS DEEMED YOU UNWORTHY AND FULL OF SCUM YOU MISERLY CAITIFF.

Love and fan-ciness (get what I did there? Fans? Fan-ciness? Eh? Eh? Oh, never mind.....)
Victory