|Y'know the shit you could buy with 20$?|
In my case it would go into funding some new notebooks and art pens.
Small Town PrideThere's nothing quite like going to bed thinking about all the people who would probably like to watch you burn in hell from their cheap lawn chairs in heaven. I don't get bothered by it as much as I used to, back when I believed them. It's not as though imagining a place worse then anything you could think up, anything you have ever been through, waiting to have you when you leave this mess behind ISN'T particularly emotionally appetizing, if you believe that sort of thing. But something seeps through this twisted prophecy that's even more bothersome than the subjectSmall Town Pride by cyborghyena
itself, and it's that something which makes it much harder to nod off into what would most assuredly be yet another fucked up dream. It's those people in the cheap lawn chairs. Replacing the vivid grotesque imagery that plagued my nightmares when I was young is just imagining what actually runs behind all of those over zealous eyes. But I suppose something has to fill that void in my head as long as there are things to be