parasite
osiris Humans are parasites, an unwelcomed mutation in the ecosystem. We take without putting back. We destroy. 030629
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User24 I can't believe this word was not here before..

welcome_to_blather, osiris
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User24 It's true that we're like a disease, like smith said in the matrix, a virus, we envelop all around us, even ourselves, we can only hope that this doesn't turn out to be the defining characteristic of humanity, I think that on a personal level, we can elevate ourselves beyond this state 030629
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joda Shhh...
Shad.
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baby hater (you know who i am) babies are the most disgusting form of parasite.
they feel off you for 9 months, stealing nutrients, making you put on weight, gain stretch marks, throw up and pee all the time.
then they sponge off you for the next 18 years and make your life a living hell, ruining any kind of social life you could have had, and they hate you.

who the FUCK would want one?
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spellcheck feed* 051016
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narcisstic_grapes emotional parasite
feed on me.
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They call me Truth Itís all about what you are willing to let go. Itís equivalent exchange, one thing for another. The question is: What are you willing to give up.
Itís complicated, this life thing, like a worm crawling under the skin with no entrance wound. You canít dig it out. You will hurt yourself. You canít wait for it to come out on its own. Itís a parasite and it feeds off your pains, your sorrows, your awkward anxious moments. You canít starve yourself. You will die too. There is nothing you can do really, but allow the worm to slime its way through you, sucking at you, eating your tissue, drinking you up through its curly straw body. Nothing. You are a helpless host to Life.
The only option is to let something go, in exchange for something else. I wanted to kill this parasite, but I had to sacrifice something in order to be granted the power to do so. I was weak and cowardly, my body frail from years of being robbed of nourishment.
But life is not really like a parasite. You owe life for granting you the opportunity to experience it. And itís not that you canít do any of these things to stop the feasting on your flesh; itís that you wonít. You are not willing to make that sacrifice.
When I thought about it to myself it became apparent to me. I wanted acceptance. I wanted to be acknowledged and I wanted to fit with everyone else. At the same time I wanted to be myself, whatever that was, and I wanted to feel free to be that way, no matter what. This was the inner struggle, the eternal conflict. But I also thought to myself that such acceptance wouldnít be real. They are not accepting me, they are accepting meÖmodified. I was forcing myself into the puzzle by shaving my edges away but it was obvious that I was red and the other pieces were shades of brown.
I know Iím a fraud and it infuriates me. My ego allows me to fantasize about the millions of other people who know they are frauds and are infuriated by it. They know they are frauds and the fraudulence of others annoys them and ignites contempt in their souls because it reminds them of themselves. I imagine that everyone around me is thinking it, but itís not coming out of their mouths. I imagine that everyone is burying it in the pit of their stomachs afraid to let it spew from their oral cavities, or show in their awkward stares, be revealed by a tremble or a facial expression, or in the words they say. I imagine everyone is like me, slowly decaying under the immense pressure of following rules and ignoring their heart. I imagine that the ground is shaking under them but they position themselves in chairs and talk about the comfort of their chairs.
What are we? Are we donkeys pretending to be horses or are we horses reducing ourselves to impotent mules?
A voice in my head answers:

We are lost.
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