Post 19 A Creative Representation of A Swelling Rage

 




I am this weasel, slowly being unraveled stitch by fucking stitch. Fuck CVS. Fuck 8:00 am classes. Fuck accounting. 

Similar to the weasel, you cannot see my true emotions on my face. In this half-formed pre-caffeinated state, I want to grab the proverbial crochet hook and swat whoever is closest to me or sew myself up with spite. 

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