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September, isn't to late?



The thunder stormed in the air. Until the second lightning strike I was sure - I was dead, I felt desperately looking for a point of impact, an intruder, a wound that stopped bleeding ...
The battle took place for years - no real winner - it's unclear who threatened. No enemies.  Without the winner. Just with anyone who was in that place.
 
I probably stood there for hours, days, maybe even weeks. It was hard to say. No one noticed the blows, they were still repeating, and the blood, the non-flashing blood was drying until became brown on my naked body. I'm dead.
Constant strokes have become part of my life. My life is imperceptible. Standing in a busy street in the very centre of the city, I am slipping and slipping off the road; each free space is filled with another person like water between the stones. Standing there, feeling the stunning city heart rate. I never felt so lonely.

 
Is it life?

Today:

  • I've listened to "Show must go on" from Moulin Rouge - 22 times.

  • I've listened to "Time" by Anastacia - 16 times.

  • I did not go to the pool.

  • I wanked 3 times watching this hot latin porn, but I managed to cum only once - I just got bored of those two times ...

  •  I was sure I would go sleep early (again, alone), although now it's 22:40 and I'm still not in bed ...

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