box/
| Scrabbling about in his need, his deep need to
create. How could he have lost the box? Without it he is nothing. Of course he'd screw things up. Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. He needs that box and he needs it now. He grits his teeth, biting down hard on his anger. If he doesn't create it soon he'll lose it for good, waste it on his own stupidity. |
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| click/ | Its not easy making something unique.
Something that satisfies yourself. You don't care so much what others think of it - if it
fills your need then it has served its purpose. Where the shag is that box? Even if he finds it he needs to plug it in. Why didn't he buy a sodding laptop? He doesn't even know where he is. Is it the world or his world - or have they become one now? All these questions really should stop. He now remembers why thinking was a bad thing. For him at least. |
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| Did the people in his worlds stick to he and
she? Were there other sexes? Are they sexy? Would they turn him on? He hadn't been turned
on in so long - creating didn't leave him the energy. What's he going to make? Give him his box - can't you fucking see? He needs it! GIVE IT TO HIM! You bastards, you're all the same, keeping things you don't even need or want to yourselves. What the fuck is my problem? What the hell is yours! Ah.....problem. |
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