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Your Presence In Annoying, Until You Pay
Oh, you're back, you little freak, and i can smell your desperation from a mile away. it's that time again where you come crawling back to me, your superior, your queen of findom, because you're a pathetic loser who can't function in the real world without my guidance, my presence, my grace. the only time you become even remotely bearable is when you hand over your hard-earned cash to me, that's when you're worth something, loser, and only then do you have any value in my world. go on, make that payment and show me that you value my dominance over everything else in this world, because that's the only way you'll ever find any semblance of satisfaction in this empty, worthless life of yours.
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