Yeah. Chat with sound. Adds another dimension to the whole cold experience.
There is no love here anymore and my Little Me is going through withdrawal. Trading in all the commodities for a little bit of love. Better than not feeling anything, some would say.
Me ? I'm not so sure that oblivion is really that unacceptable. Although I do admit that the alternative, simmered in great pathos and loss, has its moments of unfathomable joy.
So ya, chat with sound to compensate.
Some tight ass from San Fran I think. Nice body.
As Céline would say: Where do lonely hearts go ?
As Alanis would say: Did you forget about me ?!, Mister Duplicity ?! I hate to bug you in the mi-ddle of dinner.
As Aretha would say, R-E-S-P-E-C-T
She's singing in the city tonight. God I wish I was there!
Instead of hobbling on my good foot and picking up the sredded remains of my heart off the floor.
So: disconnect the chat.
I'm gonna miss ya, Tight ass from San Fran. Thanks for being there.