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If there is ever a fascist takeover in America, it will come not in the form of storm troopers kicking down doors but with lawyers and social workers saying. "I'm from the government and I'm here to help. ↗
انتخابات مزورة، كل شخص في البلد يعلم انها مزورة، ومع ذلك يعترف بها رسمياً وتحكم بها البلاد، ويعني هذا أن يستقر في ضمير الشعب أن نوابه لصوص سرقوا كراسيهم، وأن وزراءه لصوص سرقوا بالتالي مناصبهم، وأن سلطاته وحكومته مزيفة مزورة، وأن السرقة والتزييف والتضليل مشروعة رسمياً.. ألا يعذر الرجل العادي إذا كفر بالمبادئ والخلق وآمن بالزيف والانتهازية؟ ↗
Tohrment spoke. "Bella's brother called. He's tabled the sehelusion request and asked that she stay here for a couple of days." Z jacked his head up. "Why?" "He didn't give a reason-" Tohr's eye's narrowed on Z's face. "Oh... my God." "What the fuck are you looking at?" Phury pointed to the antique mirror hanging on the wall next to the double doors. "See for yourself." Zsadist marched across the room, ready to give them all hell. Bella was what mattered- His mouth went lax at his reflection. With a shaky hand he reached out to the eyes in the old-fashioned leaded glass. His irises were no longer black. They were yellow. Just like his twin's. "Phury?" he said softly. "Phury... what happened to me?" As the male came up behind him, his brother's face appeared right beside Z's. And then Wrath's dark reflection showed up in the mirror, all long hair and sunglasses. Then Rhage's star-fallen beauty. And Vishous's Sox cap. And Tohrment's brush cut. And Butch's busted nose. One by one they reached out and touched him, their big hands gently on his shoulders. "Welcome back, my brother," Phury whispered. Zsadist stared at the males who were behind him. And the oddest thought that if he were to let himself go limp and fall backward... they would catch him. ↗
Often we come home from a sharing session with a feeling that something precious has been taken away from us or that holy ground has been trodden upon. ↗
All this talking, this rather liquid confessing, was something I didn't think I could ever bring myself to do. It seemed foolhardy to me, like an uncooked egg deciding to to come out of its shell: there would be a risk of spreading out too far, turning into a formless puddle. ↗
I just have a hard time with small talk. My friend Jocelyn says I'm too quiet. But I'm really not quiet. I just tend to come across that way to new people because I don't like to talk first. What if the other person doesn't want to be bothered? ↗
