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Who wouldn't?
I don't want rat poisoning.
I don't remember. 'Ended up killing 'em all.
Up to you, dude. I know I bite, but we could figure sht out, hm?
Message me, then. Stranger.
No you cannot. Don't touch him.
I'll fckin' gut ya' like a helpless pig.
Gotta' know who ya' are first.
Just comes naturally. I'll give ya' a photo and you can fck yourself though, darlin'.
How many do ya' need? I've got plenty in'a jar.
I'm very aware.
Damn right.
I DON'T KNOW. I ALWAYS GET WEIRDOS.
Glad ya' agree.
Yeah, because askin' for his name whilst being on anon totally isn't weird.
Yes we can.
You want a treat?
Why're ya' asking?
Nothing I can really think of. I'm brutally honest most of the time.
I prefer blood.
Message me, then. 'Can't say I miss you if I don't know who ya' are.
Mine are better.
I'll dig up a hole and stick ya' in it.
Tearing people apart.
It's okay, I'm yours.
Who?
Nothing I can currently think of. I don't give a fck how people view me, anyways.
Mind if I join ya'?
I don't care.
Hiya'! 'S the party ready?
Message me. I don't fancy many people, but I /think/ I know who this is.
I laughed. The fact that you sounded out the beats is great.
I'll think about it.
I only party in graveyards.
If ya' aren't dead then I'll have to pass.
Greetings.
fck off or I'm fisting your fckin' face.
I'll skin 'em all.
've been caught.
I'm down. Just know though, your head's gonna get popped like a zit.
You should already know I wouldn't mind.
Baro— you.
I really don't care.
Most of 'em are gone.
Go down with it.
Love you too, dckhead.
Baron Corbin.
No.
That he only wants what he can't have.
Sure they are, princess.
They're hideous.
Feelings.
I'll force feed 'em to your cat.
Probably did, fckin' weirdass.
Who the fck knows?
Jealous A$$.
I know you obsessive, stalking ****.
Mhm.
fckin' hell. Whale weirdo.
I know. Glad to see everyone else 'round here does too.
Why would I want to be? Rather be a piece of sht that simply doesn't give a fck.
I ain't a happy-go-skippy motherfckr, so I don't know.
All yours.
You got some type'a whale kink?
Everyone's thumbs should only drip with blood for me. Whether it's their own or another's.
There's a few.
I'm dead. Take a wild stab.
Nah. I've got myself a Jamie.
Watch yourself. I'll unfollow real fckin' fast.
I love you too, sweetness.
Vince McMahon and his ugly creative team.
I'd probably wait until I'm at least 17 or 18 to meet any of 'em. But the ones I'd want to meet are Jamie, Mya, Jack, and the pack of she-wolves.
You've said this twice already.
Ah. He's into someone already and my relationship just crashed and burned so I dunno'. We'll see, 'eh?
Date who?
Jamies.
You are, aren't you?
I mean, I'm cute, yeah. Him? Nah.
Jamie.
Doubt it's that big since you're on anonymous. But I'll gladly cut it off with a blade and stick it in a jar.
Nah. They'll fck one of your favorites over without a warning. Why trust Vince and his creative team?
Myself, sometimes. I'm a bit fcked in the head.
I ignore 'em all so I don't fcking know. Unless ignoring does annoy them, then that's too bad.
'Best in the world'.
Because we damn well know there is only TWO best in the worlds: CM Punk and myself.
Thank you, sweetness.
Thank you.
I don't know who this is but, thanks.
People, relationships, friendships, wwe, the 100, arrow, shameless.
I think I know who this is. And as much as I love corpses, I'll have to pass.
You and I both know you don't. But don't worry, I won't tell.
I know, thank you.
People in pain.