Am I crazy?

[ErGingerbreadMandude]

No ANKA I don't think you're crazy. Besides, I've been called crazy lots of times for my overthinking, it's no big deal. It's actually laughable how you can mistake a seemingly unthreatening smile directed at you as an open challenge to arm wrestle to death..

[LadyForCamus]

What's going on Ape? You okay? ?

[ApeNotKillApe]

Fine, I guess. Don't know, was having a moment.

[chimp3]

Fine, I guess. Don't know, was having a moment.

From the looks of your profile image you look perfectly sane to me.

[ApeNotKillApe]

Fine, I guess. Don't know, was having a moment.

From the looks of your profile image you look perfectly sane to me.

I think it really captures my raw sexual charisma.

[robvalue]

Something has definitely captured mine.

[Edwardo Piet]

ANKA If you're crazy I'm batshit fucking insane.

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But for what it's worth I'm a REAL turtle.

GALAPAGOS ISLANDS ™ MOTHERFUCKERS!"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[paulpablo]

Do I seem crazy to you?

You got my vote for funniest poster. But maybe you are crazy, maybe you're an absolute psycho.

[Edwardo Piet]

I feel so pretty! Oh so prettty! So pretty and pretty fucking fucked!!!

Non-Boru

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(P.S. within parentheses: I meant 'fucked' in a good way. And pretty in the sense of "oooh, looks rather splendid!!!").

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Quirky? Adjective. ("Quirky", adjective). Quirk? Noun. Not a collective noun? Why not like "Sheep"

The Power Of Quirk ™

Non-Boru

[ApeNotKillApe]

Had a strange dream last night:

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I saw the world. I saw the image of vast ghettoes, miles of flat crumbling ruins, infested with sickly and stupid creatures, all of it prostrated before the neon on the horizon. I knew that world was this, it had always been this. A drawn-out punchline. Cancerous, hollow and vile.

Gangs of the deprived masses waged war in the streets, facist armies slaughtered peoples in droves, worked them to death in camps, pulled them apart with inquisitive surgeries. The world was corruption and slaves and corpses and human experimentation and filth. And then the world was abruptly consumed in nuclear war. The ceaseless desperate urban warfare, the petty vendettas, brought to an indecisive end. A suitable finale. I saw their stupid evils were nothing, child's play compared to the designs of those invisible, omnipresent horrors, those far beyond the reach of mortals, those wretched and invincible creatures whose shadows mark the borders of Hell. As responsible for the starvation as they were for the death squads, for the atrocities and the decay. Those who had built the dysentary skyline, who had razed it. A wall of smouldering blackness clawing its way out of the ocean, fire was everywhere. There was only horror and death. I was afraid when the bombs came, but I knew it was the only mercy. It was the natural ending of things, the conclusion to a tragedy. Hell would be incinerated. Good riddance, I thought. But I was very afraid.

I closed my eyes and hoped to die quickly, I felt for sure that I was dying, vaporizing, but the bombs fell around outside and I remained. I feared the fallout, but there was no sickness. The horrors outside continued, Hell had not been destroyed utterly. But I was seperate from it, isolated for now. One small window on the far wall, outside the sky, a misty dull blue like early morning.

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