You'll hearing from me very fucking soon.

just watch.

There is something I refuse to do. Something mindless

Otherwise referred to as censorship.
I’m not going to placate my sense of expression. Ever.

The Plastic Voice Speaks

There is some shit that has been bothering me. Wait, not bothering, but irritating me recently.

Due to the theme or content of this blog it cannot be appropriately addressed, but at this point, I don’t give a shit. Right now I’m going to set aside the space age, cat eye watercolors, and all the bullshit and actually come down and real. This is not only for whoever the fuck it’s going to, but if you like it, heart it. Raise my tumblfuckingarity which I notice is giving me alotta shit too.

First off, this is not to sway or make a public notice, but this is just to talk about my fucking experiences. This uprising compasses the nature of the behavioral moral, and in a sense behavioral value.

I just got off a relationshit that started off like as if it was literally a colossal cloud of motherfucking sugary marshmallow. It was sweet talk and all that good shit. It was a relationship were everything we had, we almost had in common, and in a way I felt submissive to like some of the things the other person liked. The dating went exceptional on the first day, but as soon as school started it all slipped into a naturally depressed state. First off, a relationship from what I know of, and I’m mixing this a little bit from definition sources; anyway, a relationship is “the condition or fact of being related; a linked connection or (in this case, romantic) association. The key word here is “connection” a link, a tie, or whatever. Without the connection there isn’t going to be a relationship, so, in order to keep the relationship from a “depressed” state, there had/has to be some sort of connected bridge. This bridge can either be some sort of telecommunication or anything, anything, anything. Okay, now from my understanding, there was an agreeable measure with this person as to how much time would be present for specific shit. e.i. homework, talk time, yeah.

So for a few more weeks the relationship was still satisfactory and still fucking floating in what I saw as series of tangled visits. But shit in due course get’s dry, and the jelly that once existed was consumed, and all left was a dull unfilled bittersweet pastry. Seeing this and coming to a conclusive decision, I suggested a “break”, or otherwise referred to as a period of time that I could get my shit together for anything further along the line. Although the break seemed unaccompanied, we made an arrangement so that the relationship would not be unhandled or be left in a secluded state. But whatever, I’ll get to that later.

Now the good shit.

Whoever I was with did not seem to find it tolerable, and one night made further questioning about coming correct with what I “meant” with “break”. What is not clear about a break? I’m sure if I flip some Bible pages I’ll find that Jesus took breaks from all of the bullshiting apostles on top of a mountain or some shit. Bottom line, a break is defined in so many fucking ways, but the “break” I talked about consisted of a period of time that divides two people who are still emotionally linked. Ultimately the “break” drove to “break”-up. And I mean, that’s fine more liberation and support to you. Its THE WAY the break-up happened that has left me with further confusion, and questioning a giant WHAT THE FUCK all over.

There is a varied quantity of reasons that were texted to me. Texted. TEXTED.

You know what, whatever. It’s an all American tool to break up over text messaging. It’s a TRUE FUCKING AMERICAN POWERTOOL, TO BREAK UP THROUGH TEXT MESSAGING. It’s too motherfucking easy cheesy to just list all of your “troubles” and walk out of what seemed to be a sentimental, although distant, but amorous circle.

So from the listed reasons

• This person saw me as the interloping excuse between one of its friendly relationships.
• This person was still not clear about a fucking break.
• This person felt their emotions were being “played” or “toyed” with.

This person had otherwise a giant fucking list of shit.

All of these reasons seemed too shady to just sit back and not analyze, and of course I analyzed. But being as analytical as I am a natural perfectionist, there did not seem to be a clear justification that actually rose up from the fruit bowl to where I could actually be like “oh, well, damn. This person is sincerely uncomfortably poisoned with this ongoing carnival of bullshit.” Instead, I Okayed the shit-tuation and proceeded with other more extravagantly important life tasks.

When someone decides to strip you to the ground with naïve text messages, and ultimately gets down to a break up, there will be obvious room for speculation. In my personal relationship, I was relatively happy. One thing that is critically important to pinpoint to this person is that, he/she should know that I did not make you my world; instead you were just a part of it. So, without further clarification, this is a response to all the silent bullshit. I’m not going to sit here and watch the days flow like a slide on an overhead projector. I got shit on my chest that must vent. I’m not one to suppress and smile my ass off sipping out of a coffee cup, and especially, I’m not a fucking slave to my fucking obsessively compulsive friends.

RE-EVALUATE THAT SHIT. don’t get it twisted.

What can be expected from someone who listens to forever the sickest kids? Nothing.

Educate your goddamn mind and come to a conclusion. I’m far too valuable for any of that shit, which leads me to think. “What the fuck was I thinking” ~ lol ~. Not really, I knew the whole way what kind of bullshit I was dealing with. This was not a martyr, and forever until the end of time I’ll keep this archived for further reference.

P.S thank’s all the recent followers of The Plastic Lounge

• Avalantor
• Prodigydoll
• Antonioreyes
• Humansneedsomefuckinglove

Sincerely, and Secretly

-Christian Oliver Vigil, your source to “The Plastic Lounge”