You know, I love to write. To me, it has something to do with arranging words in a rhythmic, poetic flow. The problem, however, is that I hate the process of writing; the time it takes to consume you in a different world, just to come back to the real world. I hate the fact that you sit and stare at a blank computer screen and no words pour out or there just isn’t anything to say.
My biggest fear about writing has always been what others thought of what I wrote. I love to show people the work I’ve done. Whether it’s a short story or just simple thought’s that I’ve had on my mind and need someone to read it and gauge with feedback. But then, how will they feel about it? Whether they’d say it was stupid or highly improbable or something heart breaking, isn’t that the point?
Who would have thought, that my petty fear is actually the true purpose of writing? The whole purpose of writing is to push the envelope, destroy the boundaries, and get people to start the conversation. Sometimes, I have to just say, “I’m doing it my way.” Sometimes, it’s necessary to coax the public, the reader, the viewer, just to simply tell them, “fuck you” for no rhyme or reason. Just that you can.
The simplest reason for why I write is so that you can think and feel. Not to think that what I say is believable or what I say is right. In fact, I want to inspire you to seek out the fallacies, the inaccuracies, the grammatical errors, and the intangible. I want you to read the various sides of me so that you may like me, hate me, understand me, side with me, and disagree with me. I want to bring out all these emotions and make you think about why you feel that way.
It’s not often I wake up at 6:30 on my vacation, but my mind
was racing with so much “what the fuck?” that I just had to spill it. I feel
like this would be so much cooler to write if I was sitting in my kitchen
drinking coffee and just have my roommates look at me with extreme confusion on
why I am up, but I don’t like coffee so I’m just going to axe those plans all
together. I suppose, I could sit there with some strawberry milk, but I feel
like that just way too hipster… Do hipsters even drink strawberry milk? Ain’t
nobody got time for that.
Speaking
of time, I hate making plans with people. It’ll come to a point where like,
five minutes before the plan is to commence, I could just care less to hang out
with them. So, like, I just begin to think of elaborate excuses to get out of
it. I spend hours preparing a story and I tell it to myself enough times that
it almost becomes real. “Yeah, no man, my dad is like pissed I didn’t wash the
dog, and I got to do that, then I have to move some furniture with my dad
upstairs in our loft and, you know, it’s just too much of a fucking hassle… Can
we just do this never, on a different day of something?” And then I think about
the story some more and it’s like, I don’t have a dog… I don’t have a loft…
What furniture would I be moving? The plan just falls apart in my head and I
just end up telling them “I got thing…” That’s it, plain and simple.
With women, it’s the fucking worst,
because, I’m like, “King Story Fabricator,” and I almost feel compelled to
break down everything and analysis it. I dunno why. I hate it, really. So there
they are, going off on a list of things they have to do; “I have this meeting
that I have to go to, and then I want to go work out for a little bit, and then
I have this seven hour gap to do a whole load of nothing, so, I’ll probably get
a coffee somewhere, and then I’m meeting
up with a friend at like 6ish to do a thing that I could probably do another
day and, so, I can’t do anything today.” So, I sit back, take that whole schedule
in, and I work it out and time it all out in my head systematically. “The
meeting will take about an hour, working out is another hour, just to get
ruined by a coffee trip to MaryLou’s, seven hours to be frumpy , and then
irrelevantly see a friend… Okay, so for starters, go to that meeting. While you’re on your way to that meeting,
tell that friend that excuse you gave me and let him systematically break it
down in his own way. Second, don’t be frumpy and go work out. I’ll buy you a
coffee after. Lastly, well, now your day
is suddenly freed up… And of course, with women, there’s no way around that
schedule. Its set in fucking stone, notarized, and sent off to some other irrelevant
person. Then you go and bargain for time. “Well, what about the seven hour gap
of nothingness? Coffee? Maybe?” Then four hours later, I get an angry the angry
text, “I’m busy!” Sometimes, there just isn’t a return text. I get it, I’m not
stupid. I’m not the person who gets pissy about getting ditched. I don’t even
call it getting ditched. I call it, “getting bumped from the schedule.” Yes, it’s
the same thing. So, when I get pumped from the schedule, I get depressed, and then
I go and drive around wasting gas, hit up Instagram and see everyone’s hipster
photos of doing non-hipster things that are now hipster things. Shit like that.
I feel like Instagram is almost
becoming like the Myspace of old. You know, when people takean action picture
of someone doing a thing that anyone viewing it, is going to have no frame of
reference. Just a thought. I’ll let you soak it in a bit.
I noticed like two weeks ago,
people evidently fell into some “hard times.” Now, I’m not going to divulge the
actual events in which transpired. However, I’ll comment by saying, it was
hilarious, and I always love reading a good Facebook fight as much as the next
person. I mean, I had to take a break at work just to catch up on this. But it
wasn’t just one person. There were a few other examples of things that went
down. Just people posting stuff about
Karma being a bitch and all that. Can we be realistic for a second? Why does
Karma have to be a bitch and why do you have to stand and bask in the glory of
some battle you won? What did you just fucking accomplish? What, you watched
someone gets arrested? You had a witty comeback? You beat some skank up cause
she was all over your man? You posted tasteless pictures of someone one Facebook
because you have a grudge with them? Well aren’t you fucking special. At the
end of the day, why would you invest all that time in orchestrating some deviant
plan? But what do I know. I choose my friends wisely. I stay away from people
who have a shady past. I don’t live a reckless lifestyle. I don’t seek out ways
for an “escape.” I don’t make up excuses for my insecurities and insanities. I
deal with my problems accordingly. I stay away from grudges. I get it, people
hate me too, but you know, the fucks I give aren’t that high in that area. At the end of it all, why you gotta be so mean?
Ben Affleck is Batman. Okay, now that we got that out of the
way, we can move on to the more pressing and pointless bantering.
So no shit, there I was, eating a
fucking salad—because, every good story DOES start with eating a damn good
salad. I don’t understand why salad gets such a bad rap. It’s a fucking
tasteless leaf and when you put some form of flavoring shit on it, it becomes
tasty and flavorful. Nope, didn’t really
have a point there. I just wanted to share that tidbit with you.
Great news, it will be September. Woohoo! Summer is basically over and I’m openly content
with that. I’m happy for this because, I work in retail, and the dummy tourists
will not be visiting. I’ve done an amazing job by not sounding off on them. It’s
just been a long summer. I think they have been the dumbest, most brainless,
people I’ve seen in a long time. Just some dumb fucking people. Dip shit after
dip shit. But you know, I could bitch and complain and say shit like, “Oh my
Gawd, Rebecca, this bitch pissed me off and I got all angry pants, and I had to
bite my tongue and if this bitch had said one more thing, she would totally for
regret that shit.” I mean, that’s cool and all, but I’ve learned, sometime just
nodding at the idiocy around you and silently knowing that you’re the smartest
person in the room is much more self-satisfying than having to remind everyone
in some way that you are the smartest person in the room.
Speaking
of dumb bitches that suck at fucking life; so there I am driving down a road.
This bitch pulls out in front of me like she’s fucking entitled to every space
in her car reach. I’m driving a fucking moving truck. You know, a vehicle that
doesn’t necessarily stop on a dime. So she pulls out of this street. I ride up
on her ass because, fuck you, and she sticks her hand out to fucking wave. I’m
thinking, okay, I didn’t have much of a fucking choice in this matter, but okay…
We drive maybe another 100 feet and the bitch stops all fucking traffic with
her car to just let everyone pull out on this one particular street. Now, I get
it if you’re making a turn somewhere and you want to let a car or two go on
their merry ways, but this woman took it upon herself to, not only hold me up
and the five cars behind me, but the four other cars from the oncoming traffic.
I immediately went from, meh to raging maniac in literally 4 seconds. I laid on
my horn for a good minute continuously screaming, “Are you fucking kidding me
you dumb fucking cunt!” She won that battle I’m afraid. However, the dude on
the other side wasn’t having it either so he just said, “thug life!” and
finally broke up the traffic halt. He was definitely the MVP. I was the coach
who randomly argued nothing to the umpire for no reason just to get ejected
from the game. Regardless, she was a fucking cunt and I hope she falls down her
basement stair, breaks her back, and manages to land with her face submerged
enough underwater as her basement suddenly becomes flooded. Hopefully fate will
prevail in my favor. One can only hope...
So this
is a story that has no relevance to anything. It was just a thought that propped
in my mind while I was checking out this girl the other day. So there I was doing
my scanning of this chick in a bathing suit and notice she's tatted up. I'm
thinking, that’s a really cool tattoo, I wish I could see the rest. After
realizing what I wanted to ask, nonchalantly, I realized I’d be basically asking
to see her vagina as her tattoo stemmed into that region. That wouldn’t be an
issue to me, but I felt people wouldn’t be like, “oh yeah sure, let me pull my
bottom off so you can get the whole view. This then prompted me into thinking
up a way to explain myself if I were to make an attempted as to why I wanted to
see her tats/vag. Finally, after digging myself in such a deep hole, in my mind
and quite possibly real life, I'd probably just give up, saying, "I'm more
curious to see what it looks like when you’re 75 anyways..."
…and
with that in mind, I’m done for the night. Again, as I generally do, I wanted
to write something really cool and at the end of this, zero relevant things
were brought up. Cheers.
I’ve noticed something about humans. There are the go
getters and then there are those that just wait for the right opportunity. I
tend to fall into the latter category. I don’t know why I do this, but I just
find myself doing just that. I like to sit back and evaluate the scene before I
decide to go ahead and make my move.
When it
comes to finding that special somebody, whether it be for the long haul, or
just for the time being before the need to settle down, we all have those particular
standards. I’m a sucker for tall, blue eyed, blondes. Skinny, of course. I don’t
like my women overweight. I mean, brunettes are great, don’t get me wrong, I
just like me some blondes, especially the petite ones. Red heads are few and
far between. The real bread winner, however, are the red heads that can switch
off between being blonde and red headed. Them fem’s be talented. It’s not an
easy feat to accomplish and master both hair colors. If they can rock that
hipbone action, holla! Total kryptonite for me, let me tell ya…
See what I did there? Did I give two shits about their personalities? Did you judge
me a bit just then? I hope you did. Think about this. We have all these
expectations of how we want that special someone to be, look, and even act. I
mean, face it, if I could propose to either Emma Watson or Taylor Swift, I’d be
all over that in a heartbeat and could and would live happily ever after. I
mean, c’mon Emma Watson, that little cutie from Harry Potter. Then you got Tay
Swift there. Sure she’s a fucking head case, but shit man, legs for
daysssszzzzzz. I have all these blinders on right now, I don’t think anyone
really matter.
I guess the real question is, if that special
person walked into our lives today, would we recognize them? Maybe would should
all lower those blinders, shall we?
Fuck it, I take it all back. Get me a ring, I'm gonna marry Emma Watson, tonight. I'm also gonna need bail money... Just a funny feeling I got...
When I graduated high school, I wanted to go to film school
and be then next big thing. I wanted all the movies that I would direct have a
catchy slogan, like, “From the Director that is far cooler than Steven
Spielberg…” But that hasn’t happen, and will probably never happen.
I thought going to Emerson would be
cool, but I also thought, Emerson wasn’t cool enough for me. I also had to
worry about what my Dad could afford, because lord knows, I wasn’t paying for
shit. I got accepted to Suffolk, and I thought, sweet, I got this. I was so
excited. My mother was excited, my father was happy that I got into that school
as well. But he knew me better than I knew myself. My motivation level was
through the floor…not the roof. It was nowhere to be found. I had replaced it
with my 18 year old ego, which was, “film school? Ha! Where I’m going, we don’t
need film school. The talent flows through my veins and reeks as if it were a
sensual aftershave.” So, my dad said, “Son, you’re going to 4Cs.” My world
crashed. How the hell would I become the next great thing? Who would make
amazing movies? Who would revive Star Wars? Well, thank Christ there’s JJ
Abrams to hold down that fort till, whenever I decide to get around to
that…again.
So, I guess I want to start this
reflection with, thanks Dad. Sometimes, you need someone to just tell it to you
straight. No grey areas, just, plain simple English.
When I got to 4Cs (Cape Cod
Community College), I flat out didn’t give a shit. I was basically in an academic
limbo. I suddenly felt like I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, but
yet at the same time, I didn’t give a shit about anything in life. I lost all
passion. I basically just fell short of a nervous breakdown.
I never really sought out to make
any friends there. It was as simple as, do my time and then get out. If I had
happened to bump into someone who shared the same misery, we’d blankly stare at
each other, zombified. Maybe we’d say a few words, but mostly grumble about
shitty things and how we hate life. But then something hit me. I didn’t want to
be that guy. I wanted to break the mold and actually do something with my life.
Just what, was the big mystery.
My four years at 4Cs ended on a
high note. I actually broke out of my shell and met people. I even socialized,
which was something pretty big in my life. And so, to those people that I
actually became friendly, thank you. Sometimes the smallest gestures leave a lasting
impact. Whether it would be allowing me to buy Red Sox tickets off you for
below market value, or buying me Twinkies to munch on in class and be fat, or
feeling comfortable for being a nonconformist, slug in class. Thanks for making
a difference in my life.
4Cs taught me a lot of things. I
helped molded me to who I am. A lot of the professors there pissed me off to
the point, where I actually talked back to them, which, surprisingly, is not my
style. I got kicked out of class, I told a teacher his methods were
ineffective, and I even had the balls to make a sexist comment to a feminist teacher…
I actually regret that bit, mainly, because she put me right in my place
thereafter… Which is actually easy, but my timing was beyond abysmal…
From there, I grabbed life by the
horns and managed to get into Bridgewater State University. Talk about a
fucking culture shock. I’m still trying to recover. It’s a Cape thing. Once you
go out and see the world for a half second, you realize, maybe there is more to
life than just sand and other shitty things on the beach. Although, my time at
the Bridge was short, I think it made a bigger impact on my life. Everybody
basically has their shit together. We all had a common goal, and everyone
worked together to help improve the other. So to all you Bridgewater folk, from
the inept groups, to the margaritas in class, to even that God-awful, fucking animal
shelter, you rock. You all have deemed yourselves dependable people, in my
book, and not many people make it into my book on positive notes. It was a
pleasure to work with you on all those projects, especially the makeshift, spur
of the moment ones. Oh, and thanks for not catching on that I hardly did any
work, when I offered to make the PowerPoint… But you gotta admit they were some
pretty damn good PowerPoint presentations.
To the bros and hoes that just happened
to hang around in my life, I know I’m stubborn like an old man, and I’m not
always the easiest person to get along with or have a normal conversation, but thanks
for putting up with me. Some of you may know why I am the way I am or some of
you just went with it, it really means a lot. I’m not going to the get any sappier
with that. I’m just going to leave it that. Miscellaneous/Family/Others:
Thanks. Much love.
And lastly, to all the fuck heads
that had no clear purpose in my life, thank you for getting the fuck out. Turns
out, I could do it without you. Y’all have been basically the biggest pieces of
shits in my life. You have done literally nothing to improve it. You know when
you leave your laundry in the washer machine for too long and it’s that smelly
shit that is technically the only thing you have clean, that’s a better day
than spending a moment with you. You are virtually nonessential. Even that
extra Lego in the package, has more of a fucking use than you. I'm not going to leave any subtle hints or anything. You all know who you are. We can leave it
at this; you should have been a blow job.
What’s
up thuggians? Me? Glad you asked. Shut the fuck up. I know you didn’t really
ask. Just fucking roll with it, bro. Anyways, I just wanted to let you know,
that the last few days, for some moronic reason, I’ve been getting in touch with
my inner sensitivity. Well, it was too fucking weird for me and I’m back. Just
like the second go around of the Bubonic Plague or when your herpes flare up
again or you decide to date your ex-boyfriend again, because “things will be the
same different now…”
Well, anyways, I have come to an impasse in my life. I’m
getting ready to graduate and heading off into the wild blue yonder, or how
ever the fuck it goes. Personally, I don’t give a flying. But I feel like the
whole part of growing up, compromises have to be made. Not only compromises,
but I think becoming compatible with other human beings is probably going to be
a necessity. Personally, I don’t give a flying fuck about the shit either; however,
who really has a say when the bird decides to in fact shit on you?
Human
interaction is A.) A lost art, B.) A fucking joke, and C.) A giant fucking
mystery to me. Some days I get it, and then the next day; it’s a pretty much a foreign
fucking concept. It’s not that I’m trying to say that I can’t stand to coexist
with people. I can, it’s just the days when I start thinking dark thoughts, I find myself concerned for
whomever is going to be the one to come into contact with me.
...and no, I don't wonder why I get rejected often. I'm fully aware of my attributes.
So, I’ve
been playing around with this thing call OKCupid. I do it, because, I think I’m
going to find the love of my life. Well sure as shit, I hate everyone on there.
I haven’t come across a person I could see myself with; even the ones that I do
message and get rejected from. I just can’t find myself to liking them. First
off, the majority of these girls are ugly. I’m talking, bottom of the barrel,
looking. Unless, I suck and just didn’t click on the ugly filter option on
there. I dunno, to be honest. Then, the ones that do make it past the eye test
are like beyond fucking retarded. I’m sure these people are sweethearts; I
would totally hate to knock on them, especially if they potentially have a
heart of gold. However, I can’t find myself to take anyone serious if they
start their bio with, “I’m weird. If you can’t handle weird you should probably
leave this page.” That’s basically the best advice I’ve heard. You’re probably
right.
I hate
the ones that just go on about their lives. How they have all those cats or
dogs and they do cute things. Then they talk about all the activities they do
with their lives and how incredibly boring they are. Honey, no one is really
taking that much of a vested interest in your life. You’re practically an
afterthought. You’re literally going to be forgotten in about ten seconds,
because your pictures are from sexy. Unless you want to get my attention, throw
a little side boob action. Otherwise, you wrapped up in your blanket, just isn’t
that impressive.
Another one of my favorites is when
they tell you how incredibly sarcastic they are and how if you can’t put up
with the extremist of sarcastic personalities, then… well you get the gist.
Really, tell me about sarcasm. I’m really interested…It blows my mind how
people use their sarcasm as a bright spot in their personality. I never knew it
was a great quality to have. I’ve run into so many people who cannot stand
being around me for my strong sarcastic personality. I don’t blame them. I
break out into full beast mode. But I don’t go around bragging how I’m
sarcastic. It just happens and people eventually find out the magnitude. To be
honest, sarcastic people is a blatant turnoff. I want nothing to do with
someone who gets into a pissing match over who can outwit the other in a
sarcasm duel. They’re retarded. Brick, hammer, genitals. BAM! I guess I’m alone
on that one…
So
basically in my spare time, I just judge the shit out of random people’s
profiles and a part of me feels happy about myself. So, it does have its
upsides. I know people who have had success with it. Me? Well, I’m clearly
doing it wrong and I am I making any real concerted effort to fix that. Till
then, I’m going to continue my search for true love the conventional way, by
buying one online from Russia, or wherever the shipping is cheapest…
I'm sick of tired of bitching about things,
people, quirks, etc... There is only so much I can say about how I hate
something, or despise something. So, I’m totally going to geek out on this one.
We are going to talk about one of, by far, my favorite subject matter: movies.
But not just any type of movie, but specifically James Bond.
A buddy of mine was having a little mini Bond
Marathon which involved strictly Pierce Brosnan in the title role. For us, we
have really only known Pierce Brosnan as James Bond 007. His films (Goldeneye, Tomorrow Never Dies, The World is
not Enough, and Die Another Day) are
groundbreaking in our minds eyes. How in the world can these be matched by
someone else’s interpretation of the character. I was born in 1989. I just made
the Reagan Era. When I was born, Timothy Dalton was still that guy. But, I
mean, when you’re like four months old, Timothy Dalton is far from a priority
in life.
After the retirement of Pierce Brosnan, a lot of
us 90’s kids were lost and fell into a deep depression. I have tons of memories
of his Bond movies. I mean, all you have to say is Goldeneye 64 and you have
just become best friends with the stranger next to you in class. But today, we
are blessed with Daniel Craig. That debate between Pierce and Daniel, and who
is better at Bond, well, no one will ever really know. But, I got to thinking,
thanks to this friend, sure we can talk about who has the better Bond films,
But what about the films in between. So I propose this, during their reign of
Bond (Pierce Brosnan 1995-2002 and Daniel Craig 2006-current), who has the best
“side project” films.
So I compiled this list, and I think it’s
evident, that Daniel Craig had more side projects that were blockbusters. He
also had the time during MGM bankruptcy issues between 2008 and 2011.
Dafuq?
The Thomas Crown Affair (Awesome), Mars Attacks! (Amazing),
Dante’s Peak (C’mon, how can you hate that movie?), The Tailor of Panama (Classic), and Evelyn (Makes me cry every time) are all decent movies. I mean,
these movies are as if James Bond himself went on vacation and this is what he
did while he was away from the office that one weekend. So I think, personally,
Pierce wins this round. Daniel Craig basically has, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Defiance, and Cowboys & Aliens. Everything is basically mediocre at best.
Daniel Craig didn’t really get famous until someone saw him in a nearly speedo
in Casino Royale.
This type of thing is
expected when you are living in the shadows of Pierce Brosnan. I guarantee you
right now, Pierce Brosnan’s “post-Bond films” are going to rank higher that Craig’s, when
the time comes. Have any of you seen, The
Matador? You should look into it. I think it’s fair to say that Pierce
Brosnan is awesome and better than Daniel Craig. Just saying.
Anyways, that’s all I
got. Next week, we’ll delve into the life and career of the one and only,
Nicolas Cage. Good night folks and stay safe.
Now, I’m probably going to piss off a bundle of train wrecks, fuck
ups, or even some coke heads, which is fine, but I think it’s time for a little
heart to heart. You are right, I've never stepped in your shoes for a
day, and you’re completely right, I don’t understand. However, that is
precisely the point; I don’t understand. I don’t understand why people would
continue to put themselves through the worst situations they can possibly
imagine. I can’t understand how someone could continue to just let their lives
go to shit. And I have no idea what the hell you were talking about when you
were blabbing about that thing and the stuff and…ugh
My Facebook has been blowing up with so many, “woe is me” stories.
I’d go on a delete binge, but part of me was far too entertained during the
Blizzard of 2013 when I had no power. Then, part of me remembered the time when
I sought out to save the drama queens of the world, and fight away all evil,
betraying boyfriend while permanently friendzoning myself for decades of
servitude. But it doesn’t just stop there, while I’ve been
reading things, it’s dawned on me that many people complain about things to
Facebook. You’ve noticed that right? And then you go on and complain about the
complaints being made in a status. I see shit like that and flip out because I
want to say something but I don’t want to stoop that low.
So
how do you complain about people complaining about other people’s complaints?
Well, if I had to answer that, I would say you just do it. But I’m not going
that rout. What I is going to say in plain English…
Oh,
you’re life has literally gone to shit? Tell me more. I love hearing the sounds
of freight trains flying by and literally crushing your dreams. I want up to
the minute updates of people breaking into your house and stealing/vandalizing
your shit. END SARCASM. Like honest to fucking Christ, who the fuck do you hang
out with it? Seriously? Wait, you actually have intentions on getting your shit
together? Well, for starters, Facebook doesn’t care about your woes, nor do the
people reading about it, however, the amusement of your poor excuse of life
allows me to pass my lunch break at school. So, thank you for that. Moving on,
your friends in jail, or have had multiple run ins with the law. Yeah, they
gotta go. Tell them, hey we had some good times, but this shit too cray for me…
Third, American Pie, it make every day
worth living for. Forth, it can always be worse…
Oh,
you want to be the buzz kill that shit’s on everyone’s redundant statuses by
posting a redundant buzz kill status? Well, you can literally go and fuck yourself. You’re not that funny and
cleaver. I think that’s all that really needs to be said about that… I mean,
let’s face it. You’re a tool.
Oh,
you’re back and want to give me an update on how amazing your life suddenly is?
Fantastic! I’ll get the rusty box cutters I found next to some crumbs and your
crack pipe I found in your car. Here you go. Do what you do best, because I
sure as shit don’t believe that you have made the necessary turnaround in life.
It’s been literally 36 fucking hours since your life was literally “ending” and
that you had no idea what else could possibly go wrong. I remember that
specifically, because had been saying that all week…
Oh,
I insulted you with my little soul searching joke? My apologies, I must have
missed that message you left on my voice mail when you finally returned my phone
call after four fucking years.
Oh,
you hashtag on Facebook? Little known fact, it was actually started on twitter
and has been rendered useless on Facebook. But keep doing it, looking like a
fuck head is in this season.
Oh,
you hate twitter? That’s fine, you should post about it on Facebook that way
you can contradict your points…
Oh,
you posted a blog about the stupid shit that people instagram? That’s weird, I
did the same thing but with Facebook statuses. People still didn’t give shit,
but hey… what was your name again, you’re sort of irrelevant to my life… Ouch.
Oh,
you’re deleting friends on Facebook? I hope I make the cut… Really will save me
the time for doing it later…
Oh, you purposely act like a bag of douches just to show people that you can be an evil fucking person? Well, I can play that game too... I said I can, but I'm not going to. I mean, after all, who gives a shit if I can make someone cry or bleed. Now I have to deal with all the psychological bullshit that follows. I don't have time for your problems. I got my own.
Well, I think that's enough. I'm just so glad I have lost my cynicism. I misplaced it for a whil... Who am I kidding, I didn't lose it, I just held back a bit. But to much avail, fuck it
