here we are. wherever that is.

So what, so its been a while. You don't own me fucker. Life has been interesting. I can't say I'm hating it, and I can't say I'm loving it, but at least its tolerable. I've calmed down a lot. Actually no I haven't I've only gotten netters at bottling my emotions up. But here we are. And where is that anyway? Who the hell makes all the requirements and rules and regs? I don't that's for sure. I guess I'm happy. I guess this is what I wanted out of life. I guess I'm lying to myself. I want money. Want to be able to look down on my critics with a sense of goddamn righteousness. I want so much that I don't have. I want it all(most). Screw it. I'm out. Time to play gears and drink mountain dew. Judge me, or don't. I don't fucking care what you do. It doesn't change a thing.

Well isn't this just a pickle.

I purged shitloads of people from my profile and of them all, it took that one less than a day to figure it out and try and re-add me. Why are you like this...


I don't need a hook. to be on some wall in cyberspace to be taken down for a few consoling words and then re-hung like a used fucking towel. I am better than that. Worth more. That chance came and went. That part of me is gone and dead.


It took a long time to kill it.




You'd wake it back up if you could, and I'll try to resist as best I can.





Then again, who knows. Mabe some sad, lonely little part of me actually liked it. liked being nothing.


#Shitididn'tneedonasaturday

STRATEGIZE

Okay, people. if there are any of you who still read this shitty rag of a blog, I'd like to hear about it.

but beyond that, life has become so strange and alien to me that I can't even realte it in writing.


Fuck this.

A Stark realization

for a fixable problem. I don't really act the way I should. It's blatantly obvious that I lead a life of sloth, irresponsibility and unhappiness. Now that lifestyle is impeding the happiness of others around me. I am, by definition, a virus. Now is the time for action. time to take control. time to let myself let myself go.

this life is killing me. killing others.

#Ijustwannaberich

I am so glad nobody reads this.

Because if they did, everyone would finally see what an twisted, soulless sonofabitch i've become over the years. I hate damn near everything, if only just a little bit. I, like many others, want to run away to a shack in the woods and never see anyone again. I won't do it. I have more to live for than a hobos mindless rambling existence. I have people to demoralize, causes to spit upon, couples to openly mock.


I am so glad nobody reads this.

Because I love the asshole life. Being disagreeable and hard to manage is the best thing ever. Even my best friend won't talk to me today. She's a little pissed off at the world too, only she's decided to run away like a little punk bitch. I told her as much, and I meant it. She wants to escape her problems and run to california, like some displaced flower child. Boo. Fucking. Hoo. you have problems. wah, wah, wah. yeah, running away gets rid of those particular ones, but knowing you, you'll set up a whole new shitty existence in cali.


Someone once told me that all people are basically rotten. evil. I think I see what they meant by that. People want to be good. but can't. there's something driving us to be assholes. alpha males and females. Bastards. Some of us embrace it and accept it. I want to associate only with these people, because they are the only ones in the world whom I can stand for any extended period of time.


Fuck the rest of you.



Grow up.




Stop acting like an innocent little child when you know what you are.





You're a fucking asshole. Deal with it.

Ad Nauseam

Life trundles along at an unassuming and patently uninteresting pace. I can no longer see the point in hopes and dreams. Sounds emo, I know, but it's not despair. I don't feel like life will forever be shit. I just know it will never be great. I mean, sure I had hopes for a better lifestyle. better living situation. I had dreams, some very public, others incredibly private. so private, i've never even shared them with anyone I've known.

That particular one is the worst of the bunch. I swear, it's like an old war wound that still twinges at the sight of the battlefield. still... It, like all the others, must go. I cannot afford to stick my head in the clouds any longer than I already have. People change. Life speeds up, if only slowly. I will never achieve what I have in my head as true happiness.

and you know something, life, you asshole?

I don't even feel sad about it.

Matter of fact, I don't feel anything about it at all.

and on that note.

'pity this busy monster, manunkind' pity this busy monster, manunkind, not. Progress is a comfortable disease: your victim (death and life safely beyond) plays with the bigness of his littleness --- electrons deify one razorblade into a mountainrange; lenses extend unwish through curving wherewhen till unwish returns on its unself. A world of made is not a world of born --- pity poor flesh and trees, poor stars and stones, but never this fine specimen of hypermagical ultraomnipotence. We doctors know a hopeless case if --- listen: there's a hell of a good universe next door; let's go E. E. Cummings

people are strange.

Everybody has more friends than I give them credit for. Especially some of my closer friends. I guess it's easy to put on the best friend blinders and expect (maybe not expect, maybe just assume) that you are the one person by which all other friendships are judged. It's just not the case, I'm afraid. Everybody has people.

Anyway, something has been bothering me lately. Why is it that there are people in the world who will stand by you no matter what, who would never be able to say no to helping you out if you really needed it, and at the same time ,those same people can and usually do turn around and hate you? I've been on the receiving end of this as much as anybody else has, but it's still fucking perplexing.

I guess I wonder what makes a person do that.

Also strange is the way people will keep torturing themselves with pointless "quests" to be the perfect person in the eyes of their particular perfect person. whew. alliterative. Honestly, though, what qualifies beating one's head against a brick wall and fighting and fucking as love? IS that all love really is? being able to stand one person's bullshit at all times, no matter the situation? What if that person has mistreated you? Cheated? Abused? Lied? At that point, what is preserving this notion of love would seem to be nothing more than a slight case of Stockholm's.

Whatever. oh, and hey you. yeah you. stop being antisocial.