Give me room! I want to fully develop, stretch my legs, make a wife, mine and fly jets around like Maverick! I want to put less effort into seeking safer ways to express myself before I explode. The jesters are sick of hearing that. I wipe my chin of drool more than most.
I heard chivalry has been dead and I refuse to sit with that quietly. If it were just us meeting, your hand would be kissed upon unifying. I’ll always look up before moving my lips up your forearm. Do not raise issues with my impending knightship or me outlining how great our future could be.
I am over church mice holding assault rifles and aiming at my temples, seeing me please these hopefuls.
I am feeling weightless having expressed myself more clearly in recent posts accurately. I encourage everybody to feel at ease speaking their truth. Go ahead save your f#cks. What are they going to do? Throw you back in that cellar? Cage you like a rabid, wild animal?
Stop wasting your breath arguing, Kyle, be a lover, a Christian, a free market enthusiast, a capitalist, a faithful husband-to-be and yourself. Brush these flakes back in to your bowl. Freeze her breath with diamonds, bull.
Make Mariah jealous. Carry the conversation back to God as often as possible and be ready to deck any Disney employee foiling your plan to propose.
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