Message from @zimthomas
Discord ID: 480835367562379275
and this is crazy
so heres my number
call me maybe
439 0116
poo
^epic take
Ooga
Dusty who is your pf
pfp
And why are you pretending to be someone with enough T to grow facial hair
shut up nerd
@Broseph it's you
Tfw facial hair
Tfw forget to pull pants down before shidding <:autist:402378380063932418>
tfw waffle stomping and the shit gets stuck in the drain <:kms:402614756243931136>
disappointed
FINALLY DONE WITH WORK
folks this nigga is hung over
Whom
it's my birthday frens <:smug:402400327313391616>
happy birthday
happy birthday
I hate you @dirt flakes
@dirt flakes another year closer to being a boomer
tfw 20 year old boomer
Reminder white women would rather fuck dogs than you
Damn @Deleted User my beard is thicker than yours
Hi flakes @dirt flakes
What's going on with BA?
havent heard anything from baked alaska since he came on the sweat
And do you know what "the world" is to me? Shall I show it to you in my mirror? This world: a monster of energy, without beginning, without end; a firm, iron magnitude of force that does not grow bigger or smaller, that does not expend itself but only transforms itself; as a whole, of unalterable size, a household without expenses or losses, but likewise without increase or income; enclosed by "nothingness" as by a boundary; not something blurry or wasted, not something endlessly extended, but set in a definite space as a definite force, and not a sphere that might be "empty" here or there, but rather as force throughout, as a play of forces and waves of forces, at the same time one and many, increasing here and at the same time decreasing there; a sea of forces flowing and rushing together, eternally changing, eternally flooding back, with tremendous years of recurrence, with an ebb and a flood of its forms; out of the simplest forms striving toward the most complex, out of the stillest, most rigid, coldest forms toward the hottest, most turbulent, most self-contradictory, and then again returning home to the simple out of this abundance, out of the play of contradictions back to the joy of concord, still affirming itself in this uniformity of its courses and its years, blessing itself as that which must return eternally, as a becoming that knows no satiety, no disgust, no weariness: this, my Dionysian world of the eternally self-creating, the eternally self-destroying, this mystery world of the twofold voluptuous delight, my "beyond good and evil," without goal, unless the joy of the circle is itself a goal; without will, unless a ring feels good will toward itself--do you want a name for this world? A solution for all its riddles? A light for you, too, you best-concealed, strongest, most intrepid, most midnightly men?-- This world is the will to power--and nothing besides! And you yourselves are also this will to power--and nothing besides!