If the world would end today, I would bake myself a slightly burnt piece of cake, sit down and take a cup of cold tea, lie on the bed and take a restful nap... the last good treatment to give oneself before majority starts receiving hell sentence.
It amuses me that some people consider themselves minor in the gravity of sinning, but isn't that the reason why hell has apartments and one floor is hotter than the other? Personally, I fruitlessly but unrelentingly try to steer clear of sin; I've never had the confidence to steal even what rightfully belongs to me; I am hesitant at lying and I neither drink nor smoke. I don't backbite, I fuck people to their faces. The love of money is the beginning of all evil; I do not love money or the materialism that the old jailer promises; I only need money to apply my talents to the world, not to build fifteen houses and buy fifty cars. For now, the only sin I commit on daily basis is the lustfully penetrating looks I set at beautiful faces and well-sloped geographical orientation of richly pelvic-girdled feminine attractions. I've not had much of unclothed gymnastics on the foamy field in my life though, but I've committed as much atrocities with my head at the passing of every viscerally significant posteriority as any whore with her moist posterior ecosystem. God be merciful! And we're the leaders of tomorrow!
There's this sister I've always marked an exception due to her impressive moral and modest self-conduct. The day I was in boxer shorts in front of my door while she passed, I noticed how she ogled the outline of my brutal procreative appendage in such a biologically hungry manner that her lusts after my unspoken gait was as plain as nose on a dwarf's face. And after all, I found myself considering an acquiescence to the saying that indeed, abstinence is either the absence of confidence, lack of opportunity or absence of temptation, not necessarily the presence of rigid faith, for do we not see our girlfriends when they pray with such vigorousness and earnestness, yet, passes no impressiveness on us, they fuck us with equal dramatic dedication and athletic fervour. How it's better to be a sinner and be known a sinner, than to be a hypocrite and be known a saint! Every elder fells bollocks on youths yet fills our girlfriends, their children's age-mates, vehemently with their dirty organic cream. Ah if Jesus came! I wonder what he would say? Perhaps, forgive them because they do not know what they're doing he would say again? We sure as hell ain't gonna be indulged as such again; no, I doubt it. And age is not a determinant of ripeness for death. And I still like moderately-figured girls. And fire is not a nice thing to end up in. And... Damn it! I'm so afraid!
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