Empty your pockets . What was yours is mine, now.
I'm going to give it to my abusive bf.
You do a good job, baker, but I don't want to get into your hang ups. I got my own hang ups.
I leave you alone and you come this marxist diagnostic opprobrium. Let me tell you: my parents put me in a psych so they could continue their divorce. I have slid out from under craxy. I got out by escaping: against reccomendations, I am an escapee of an insane asylum. IQ 238, if you believe in standardized tests.
I don't.
My assessment of you: you need to red more books. Here you are in front of Encyclopedia open Internet. Gobble it up while you can.
After a few years I requested my exit papers. I have them.
My worst memory when this big fag tried to fuck me. I got away, but he threw a emo fit and destroyed property; the kike shrinks billed my parents for his damage, because he was indigent. I told you once, here, it was exactly like once. Look it up.
They recommended me for long term care, because my parents had "torture & kill the boy, retire" insurance