I could go off on a rant about whatever it is that's tearing at my frontal lobe right now. I could throw a general sense of self loathing, sexual frustration, and depression in a big ol' pot and let it fester on the screen like a plate of pasta thrown against a wall. I could do that, and have done that all quite well in the past. And probably will again.
But tonight I have a few kinds of alcohol flowing through my bloodstream and my eyes feel like sandboxes the neighborhood dogs have had their way with. So, I'm not going to do it. Just not gonna. Because no one, least of all me, want to hear about it. No one wants to hear me whine about my outcast state and neurosis that have lead up to this very minute in time. Not a goddamn person, nope.
I'm supposed to be stoic and absorb everything like a good soldier and turn the pages until I die of old age. Take your uncomfortable looks and distaste and shove them up your ass. You're all scum, just like me.
The End.
D-
But tonight I have a few kinds of alcohol flowing through my bloodstream and my eyes feel like sandboxes the neighborhood dogs have had their way with. So, I'm not going to do it. Just not gonna. Because no one, least of all me, want to hear about it. No one wants to hear me whine about my outcast state and neurosis that have lead up to this very minute in time. Not a goddamn person, nope.
I'm supposed to be stoic and absorb everything like a good soldier and turn the pages until I die of old age. Take your uncomfortable looks and distaste and shove them up your ass. You're all scum, just like me.
The End.
D-
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