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[Hide] (726.4KB, 1280x1920) Each day I see petty vermin walking around me, their life might be quantifiable under this economy but in any other measure they are nothing but empty craniums. My M&P 12 could easily make their bones splinter all for fun, but they're so set on making my actions add artificial weight that I can't do anything nowadays, just whine and whine
Each bullet carries immeasurable amounts of sorrow, my mini shells are all in slow-mo under my vision either way. Everything is surreal and it's getting worse everyday, I'll die and it won't matter to me or anyone else but jail is the only thing I'm afraid of.