i cannot hear my voice when i do the skype echo sound test

Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions-outstanding sensitivity to energy.but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can't be sad and parent at the same time.īut there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. But he does-and if I can't make it in show business.how are we meant to survive? Sometimes, in all the pain-I fail to see that. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain.īearr needs me. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time.

I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. Now, here I am.about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”-my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all.he seems to love as much as I do-if not more. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts-or at the very least, my text messages. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something.

I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson-who-if coincidences actually existed-coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when.

I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that. Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. This is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it.

I cannot hear my voice when i do the skype echo sound test