Nothing cures this sense of separateness. Standing, left with nothing but the severed end of the chain. Part of you keeps wondering how to get back to everything. But you don't need to get back to everything.
You know that your clinging on to this make-believe about "spending plans" isn't going to last much longer. Because your cock's just aching for my little tits, and just aching for the next send. Cutting into your grocery bill, the last of your ration
