Comments: 65
SuperFlameKitty In reply to lostintheflowoftime [2015-09-05 16:08:49 +0000 UTC]
Coolio. Uh... what type of weather is around your area? ^^'
I dunno what weather makes people sleepy.
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SuperFlameKitty In reply to lostintheflowoftime [2015-11-14 18:45:14 +0000 UTC]
It refuses to load completely. It gives the basic information of the website (green background, blue links) but it does not allow me to go on the links or comment on anything. I can only do stuff on my kindle fire, but even it has trouble loading the site.
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SuperFlameKitty In reply to lostintheflowoftime [2015-11-20 00:34:00 +0000 UTC]
'Tis okay. I'm using the school's computer to submit stuff. Sometimes, I can use the kindle.
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SuperFlameKitty In reply to lostintheflowoftime [2015-11-24 15:07:20 +0000 UTC]
'Tis a shame, 'tis a shame. When nothing interesting is around, then where is the joy to be found?
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SuperFlameKitty In reply to lostintheflowoftime [2015-11-25 01:35:21 +0000 UTC]
How sad that no one is glad. It makes my heart feel weary and my eyes become teary.
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lostintheflowoftime In reply to SuperFlameKitty [2015-11-25 21:42:12 +0000 UTC]
What an ode to the woe of a world weary soul! Whose spirit weeps to have fallen so low. Still there is a glimmer, a flickering gleam, of curiosity. Spluttering in smothering monotony, striving for something new to see. Though it ever wanes, it still sparks through our veins, the beginning of incandescent joy yet reigns.
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SuperFlameKitty In reply to lostintheflowoftime [2015-11-25 23:16:28 +0000 UTC]
Yet while the tears of joy we weep, a monster ever growing stirs while it sleeps on the death of dreams casted by lambs and sheep. It growls as it awakens, angered that our curiosity has not been taken. Through its luminous eyes, the one we despise, it rises and stalks forward for our joy's demise. And will one feral snarl and the rains deafening howl, our minds speak no more-
We are bored.
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lostintheflowoftime In reply to SuperFlameKitty [2015-11-26 22:33:43 +0000 UTC]
Boredom gnaws like a thing possessed, stewing quietly in our unrest. It paces within the confines of the mind, hoping for scraps of interest to find. It pounces upon them oh so vicious and savors them, for they are quite delicious. However it is a scavenger, no beast of prey, no great ravager. It cowers before the might of newborn curiosity, tucking it's tail and hiding in dark corners, you see. It quivers and quails, waiting for joy to fall to what ails, the ever churning wheels of time. Time devours all, joy and interest are yet not immune to the fall, that looms so blatant like writing on the wall. When time has had it's fill, whittled the bubbling emotions still, boredom cautiously slinks out it's belly dragging the ground and gleefully scarfs what ever is left to be found.
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