>I enjoy reading these despair-filled confessions.
I couldn't believe it when I saw this post. That a friendly, ordinary user of Heyuri, would derive a sick pleasure from my pain. My imaginary vision of what Heyurizens were like was restored like a fresh pane restoring a window. It made me feel ebullient, so strong that I could barely remain sitting in my chair. I jumped to the floor, my will to live overflowing just like air into my lungs. I needed to get out of here. But as I tried setting foot from my forever sacred sanctuary that perfumed of urine and dried semen, I hopped off a crinkled can and frolicked on a pile of used tissues. Delightfully leaping one skip at a time to reach my doorknob, I succeeded in flying off my soles to achieve far beyond the height needed to grasp the handle... only to find it locked. I was free to myself in this room, in my own paradise, with the present comfort that was my computer screen now an icon of joy. So thrilling were the melodious sounds of imaginary singing in my head, I broke out into a jolly jig. All the while, it seemed as though the light in the room grew more intense, until it was just brilliantly glistening. Then, bliss.