il only be truly happy when...

have you ever given much thought to this statement?

what would make you truly happy and content? i think ultimate goals in life need to be addressed here..

*happiness is the only worthwhile goal*

il only be happy when... i am no longer lonely..

dreamscapes

in my limited free time, i read. for fun. [an interesting concept, i know] i am now labouring through a tale devised by mr edgar allen poe. a haunted house. a deceased sister. a languishing brother.

*He becomes weak. feeble. loses strength. no vigor.
He exists in misery. disheartening conditions in his prison of wretched mourning.
He pines away in longing, apart from friends and family. He yearns for a change from dull routine.
All this to gain sympathy from the storyteller.*

I labour through this tale. i see myself in this tragedy. trudging through life, seeing no end to the misery. It's tear-inducing. which makes reading by candlelight slightly more challenging...

to burn the house down or not to burn the house down. that is the question..

[can you remember when we used to laugh?]

then the pin dropped..

she is my fave superhero. always was. it seems, always will be.

i believe i was drawn to her because of her innate loneliness. i felt a sort of connection. like she is a kindred spirit. she knows what im going through.

i've longed for touch for most of my life.

i exist in a self-induced prison.

this cage.

^_^

i amuse my self.

and myself.

[it never heals and never goes away..]

toDay, In the caGe

something to ponder..

even further back into the past, [i live to analyze everything, students. it is my sordid nature] i was regarded as some dark angel of the occult by the ignorant masses.

for a while i took up residence in a small sort of town. the sire wordsmith makes reference to this sort of place in one of his poignant parchments. it's the kind of place with a church on every corner and a liquor store for every church.

so, ostracised from a tender age, one becomes accustomed to hatred and abuse.

and, the root of all this ignorant behaviour?

*do not underestimate the power of stupid people in groups*
i was desperately shy.

therefore, i must be a witch.

*bubble bubble toil and trouble*

im partial to biscuits

i bought coffee today.

but, to illustrate my specific brand of luck, not only did it scorch my fragile system when i attempted to satiate my thirst with it, but most of it ended up spilt in my now sticky car.

*sigh*

i dont usually buy coffee. im not a caffeine addict. i dont require the pick-me-up many others have admitted to needing. this was a whim. ... i now know why im not the biggest fan of having beverages in my car. they have this terrific tendency to end up becoming a more permanent part of the interior.

perfect - more money i need to spend towards the perpetuation of the peculiar prognosis that a pristine car indicates a perfect soul...

*cleanliness, darlings... it has something to do with ... ... *

wait a minute.

*double sigh*

anyway. my original point was, im not buying coffee again soon. its free at the office where i "work". or am supposed to "work". if you can call this work.

i think the bosses of this industry get off on yelling at people. making people feel inferior. they get their kicks by belittling others. by setting impossible tasks, then venting on those less vertically established as themselves on the ole corporate ladder.

i severely dislike the system.

maybe i should switch to decaf.

sanctify

im so tired of being depressed. its cliche. its so last week. everybodys doing it, dammit. im so tired of being bored with my life. i wish there was more to it than this. its so frustrating to know that life is ending one second at a time and you only get one shot at it... and to waste time this way... its appalling.

wish i were somewhere else. doing something else. i wish i were someone else.

like mr davis, all i want in life is to be happy.

maybe i should start my own religion. or, better yet, my own cult.

i read a book about this once. all new applicants had to denounce sex and give all their money to the “organisation” on new entry. ... it was so perfectly corrupt, we found out in the end, kiddies. with power, depravity and money at the evil evil core of it all. sadly, the only appealing thing about this story, was my twisted imagination...

i wonder if ive truly become bored with “life”. so, im looking for someone to liven things up for me. ... yup... any time now... some great exciting guy is gonna bust down my door... any second now... [yeah – and probably rob me blind. then leave. without the almost obligatory rape scene. figures]

i wonder if anyone in life truly is happy. or, is there a guinness world record for longest period of happiness? or is it more... abstract than that? who knows?

there are these creepy sounds outside the house. [solitary confinement is SO healthy for the imagination] anyway. i wonder if someone is trying to break in. why not just knock, you know? why bang and stuff? its so... last season.

there’s nothing on tv. besides, that crap will rot my brain.

i wish i were smarter. more elegant. more interesting. more... everything. but, im not. and im never gonna fit in. and im never gonna meet prince charming. and when i do he’l probly kick me in the face and then spit in my hair. [yuck.] who wants that anyway?

i wonder who i have to be to be happy. i blame the media for setting unrealistic standards for me. things i couldnt possibly achieve. i mean, ive come as close to what i think i need to be to be happy... without chemically or surgically altering myself.

im sure the right guy for me is out there somewhere... in his cell. bitchslapping some over-eager convict named Bubba for hogging the blankets again.

maybe not.

i envy the happy. rich. and busy.

i think the busy are most... shall we call it blessed? cause, you dont have time to bitch about being depro. scratch that, i think the luckiest ppl are those who actually enjoy what they do on a day to day basis.

problem is, what do i like to do? i like to sit on my ass and... i dunno. tv doesnt have much appeal for me. i get bored damn quickly. i hate being bored. so, what kinda job is different every other week? anything i do has about a 2 week excitement lifespan. max.

barring that, im not good enough to get any half-decent jobs anyway. not smart enough. or kewl enough. or qualified enough. or edgy, or pretty, or ugly... or anything, for that matter.

just ordinary.

[anybody see american beauty?]

Petulant Childe

there is this … obsession with self-sabotage, that i do not understand. i know not from whence it came, nor what drives it. it is an automatic and much regretted action, always in retrospect. maybe it has attention-seeking at its rotting core. whatever Force may drive it, it is unwelcome. unbidden. yet, omnipotent.

*if something bothers you enough, you should do something about it. just stop bitching. get off my case, you pot-smoking procrastinating sycophant!*

*sigh*

if Misery loves company,

why am i alone?

im all better now

in my wanderings and meanderings, i also found the truth. refreshing to say the least.

some days, like today, i wish i were the sex-crazed junkie on an unstoppable highway to ultimate self-destruction.

and if you were to ever meet me in the street, you'd not spare me a second thought.

you hate me like i hate myself

sadly, i've become disenchanted with my blog.

*who IS this crazy constantly nagging psycho-bitch??*

yikes.

this is where it all starts to unravel, i guess. ive been self-medicating again. why pay someone else for something you can do yourself? am i right? am i right? of course. am i overly pretentious too? am i everything i hate in everyone else? [wouldnt THAT be quaint?]

i still think im in the wrong profession. i hate my job. i dread going to sleep, coz i have to get up and go to work the next day. [insert deity of choice, should you choose to believe in one], i hate this existence. im still waiting to be rescued. sad scary part is, im never getting rescued. and i know this. i dont know whats worse. knowing all these depressing facts and not killing myself, or just going on despite everything.

something morbid cheered me up. by chance. found this blog by randomly searching for blogs out of boredom. [just spreading the morbidity]

time to go home.

there is no home.

regression

there is so much shit in the world. at times, its easier to feel suffocated and alone. but, obviously, there are bigger things out there. being self-centred - ignorant - doesnt make all the bad stuff go away.

on the contrary - shouldnt i be doing something important with my life? *is it truly my life?* when reading of other people and their experiences, lives... everything, its easy to feel insignificant. its easy to forget... confusion comes naturally. likewise, insecurity. inferiority.

how to shut everything out? would you want to?

when the focus blurs, are we all really here? when you cant deal with yourself, is it better to deal with everything else? immerse yourself in the troubles of others? care more? care less? say: "fuck everything!"?

what to do to fit in? why is there a desperate need to fit in anyway?

why is acceptance elusive, yet so important? coz, regardless, say what you want, everyone wants companionship. words do harm. especially rejection. i dont care who you are, its a universal truth. just deal with it.

there is always someone with problems to dwarf your own.

mostly, our problems are but pseudo-problems. exaggerated by our feeble minds to become all-consuming.

just a lot of psychobabble bullspit.

i dunno.

strange. i seem to want too much all at once, without wanting to put in the work for it. know what i mean? i want friends. the real kind. that stick with you through everything. the kewl kind. the intellectual ones. the ones that understand the puns. those that get the inside jokes. and know that sometimes, its okay to just be in the presence of each other.

sometimes silence can be golden.

mostly, tho, its just the ardent reminder that you're alone. too stupid, lame, retarded to make your own friends. too afraid. too worried about rejection.

*do i look like a fucktard in this? ultimately, who cares?*

why would anyone give a flying xmas fuck anyway about what other people think? why is it so important?

i dunno.

i don't know.

the solution escapes me.

*what can i say to make me appealing?*

Omigoddess - this is SO ME

i have completed the personality disorder test.

to understand me better, i am all of the following:

- borderline [i wanna DIE... i am worthless, after all]

- histronic [achtung, dammit!! surely, i CANT be worthless... see how cute, smart, caring i am!]

- avoidant [i have societal anxiety - everybody hates me. wish i knew why]

BUT, the most prevalent: DEPENDENT [plz plz plz - take care of me! i cant do it myself]

Dependent personality disorder is characterized by a need to be taken care of. People with this disorder tend to cling to people and fear losing them. They may become suicidal when a break-up is imminent. They tend to let others make important decisions for them and often jump from relationship to relationship. Dependents often remain in abusive relationships. Over-sensitivity to disapproval is common. Dependents often feel helpless and depressed.

*click*

it all makes sense now...

can you see me now?

in the past.

i used to wish away my life and times.

i was younger then. even more naive than i am currently. [if thats at all possible] life used to be the barbed wire of torture and torment i would cast about my shoulders daily. it pierced my skin. drew blood. how i suffered!

realisation: why do this to one's self? why give so much power away to others - in all probability - more screwed up than i?

* find the beauty within.

* make your own joy.

* all else will follow.

and one day - i will become less invisible. to myself. and to the world.

one day, i too will be truly happy.

[there's no way to turn around]

show me love till im screaming for more.

i knoW why the caged bIrd siNGS

i had a great dream this morning.

i was being chased by vampires, got saved by my now hated ex-companion. insert amazing gratuitous sex scene here. the man was a sexual playground.

**

i don’t presume to know what is going on in this man’s mind. i do not fool myself into thinking it was more than what it was. i know it’s all over now. i know it’s over.

now, however, i’m starting to feel hurt. i’m starting to feel discarded. i feel… sad. i feel like i could’ve done things differently, handled it differently. i feel a great loss. there was so much possibility. not for anything serious, i know. but, i mean, something nonetheless. why am i always the only one mourning the possibilities??

it’s always me, always alone.

i will never be clean. no matter how long my nightly bathing rituals are. it will never be the same again. except maybe in my dreams… for in my dreams, the possibilities are endless and i shape and mould everything. reality is the fabric for my creations.

what will take the pain away? i need someone who will keep me safe, keep me sane.

my gullibility, faith and innocent nature is always getting me into trouble. i don’t know what is to be done about this. am i supposed to change? is the world supposed to change? is this my fault? am i to blame? will i never learn?

who wants to live in a world of distrust? surely not i. cold, desolate and lonely it would be. there would be no joy, only the lifeless grey emptiness. when will i laugh again? when will i enjoy myself? how long do i have to wait for everything to be perfect? … elusive Perfection.

I know why the caged bird sings.

there is always a bottom line. and here it is: only I can supply me with happiness and sanity. no one will ever understand me the way I want to be understood. no one will ever come and save me, in the way I want to be saved. this is not the world’s fault. this is my … responsibility. the cross we all have to bear. the deeper Truth we are all searching for. it has eluded me for countless aeons. no more.

No more.

so, no, sir. i am not hurting. i will never victimise myself. i am stronger than that. i always was. i just needed a reminder. i remember the good times. i always remember the good times. i remember that once, i felt good. i remember the possibilities.

never the negative. for, the negative will draw one down to the decayed pits of self-doubt. there is more to life than being depressed.

remember the good. all ways. always.

the ID

*meow*

doko wa neko desu ka...

decay

i went for a walk. an excursion for nourishment. then. unexpectedly, i saw him. right there. he looked right past me, through me. nothing. no "hi". no wave. no nothing. like a deer stuck in the dazed state induced by an oncoming 10 tonne truck, i panicked. turned to my right. drew money at the atm. heart pounding, then forcing myself to calm the hell down. when i turned again, he had disappeared.

he hadnt recognised me.

that also figures.

<all the leaves are brown and the sky is grey>

and so, i keep dreaming. i dream of a day when i will no longer be by myself. i dream of a day when life truly will be a unlimited joy, abundant bliss. and in this catatonic state i will stay, never to shake the shackles of self-hatred.

<when all of your wishes are granted - many of your dreams will be destroyed>

*retch*

reckleSs endAnGermEnt

gather round, children. come sit by granny's feet. i wish to tell you a tale... a sordid tale... the setting is bleak. likewise, the outlook... sit for a while. be still. it starts.

ethereal; i gaze upon the sad sad scene. serene, yet confused, i smile down curiously at my surroundings. all seems pristine and darkly romantic:

there are flickering candles scattered about with seeming careless disregard. an opulent fragrance of the sweetest rose dances in the air. this fantasy of rose fleetingly frolicks with my olfactory senses. fluttering curtains of purest white are lazily taunted and teased by a cool gentle breeze.

all is quiet.

my gazing eyes are drawn to the over-large smoothness of an alabaster tub. it is dark and sinister as the night, shining like a shrine in a sea of candles.

a dark pool of crimson [saw this coming, didnt you, children..] fills this unholy tub to its brim. my eyes are drawn ever closer to the figure suspended there. in time. forever. almost glazed...

her skin has taken on an almost translucent quality. candlelight shimmers on her liquid bed. her watery grave seems to swerve.

but no.

a tightness clutches deeply inside my chest. the world has gone mad! i cannot draw breath... but, i soon realise, i do not need to.

this is about a girl.

[right on, mr cobain!]

i know her.

this is where the story ends and the nightmare begins.

[life: hurry - scurry - bury. life cycle. rinse cycle. menstrual cycle. it's all connected. perspire retire expire - you have reached your sell-by date. the final destination, so to speak.]

i float above the tragic visions in my head. i wage a bitter pointless war against every cold stark mirror i encounter.

rejection issues.

starry starry night

a tribute!

arigatoo gozaimas, to the sire wordsmith . his eloquence shames my feeble attempts at the same!

on the other hand... i colour my world with the hues of my madness.

<i am not sorry - i am not sorry - this is what you deserve>

critics and commentators! do you find my attempts at painting aesthetically pleasing in the slightest?

incinerate my over-ZeAlous hoPes and dr'EaMs

do you understand what you mean to me?

how you've shaped me?

as beautiful as FURIOUS FIRE...OMNIPOTENT OCEAN...EPIC EARTH...WILLOWING WIND - you have opened my innocent naive eyes to all the reckless possiblities. i gasp. i entertain no malicious intentions.

i intend only to worship at your celestial feet... brilliant - pure -without imperfection... glittering in the distance. ever-beckoning..

i want you to stay. i need you. i want you. i'll have you. even if it breaks me...

to wreak havoc on my super-imposed sanity!

i ache.

*gasp..*

louNge with me fOr a While

i have my moments.

today is a good day. i have eluded the intese depression that haunts me relentlessly. almost, tenaciously. [just add sugah!! a SPOONFUL of sugah!] my doctor keeps reminding me about this. something about medicine... and a downward spiral into nothingness. i dunno... i forget.

[i know you better than you think]

inconsequential fact: depression is an ugly fallacy. a myth! a story! a faery tale! an excuse not to try! it's like sandy claws, the easter bunny-rabbit and lil miss tooth faery. pigments of a kaleidoscope imagination. there is but boredom. ultimately, crushing laziness. and lack-lustre anti-effort.

*gimme back my straight jacket!!* *its warm.. its hug-inducing..* *i like hugs..*

dont forget. im fragile. i shatter with immaculate ease.

my home has become more appealing of late... there are echoes. there are voices. ... the voices in my head make the loneliness bearable. welcome to my home, dear critics and commentators. feel welcome. visit often. i will never forsake you.

yikes, rats!

how deep is your love

i find it difficult to find joy in the great news i received today. how wicked is that? how immoral? how wrong.

i wanna paint a picture. give me oils and paints to stain my canvas with my pain and suffering. for, it will never end. therefore there will be no end to the creativity that springs forth from the sic endless depthless well of torment. this wasnt my idea, friends and neighbours.

to all you curious souls out there, im reading the world's greatest horror stories at the moment. [no, really, thats the title of the book] anyway, some of the tales are quite beautifully written. but, alas, not all horror tales incite the terror that they should. which is a pity. some are rather mundane. so, naturally, i ask myself, how could these possibly be the best?? i need to get out more, im sure.

time for me to be off into the wild blue-grey yonder. i want that journalist to type me up a blog of a dark desolate, slightly damp night. it should reek of omnipotent terror. it should be impregnanted with the stench of impending doom. paint me that picture, dear wordsmith. and, i will gouge myself and wreak havok upon my scathed canvas!

hmm - maybe i should give him a comment to that effect.

i think i shall.

me out.

hello world

i didnt wanna say anything, but i think i should.

its like it never even happened. and, i guess, barring the terrible feeling of impending doom and erratic nausea, life is peachy.

[rite on, mr davis]

ive been trying to add more pics, to no avail. and my desolate blog, without any comments, why, its enough to make any blogger bawl with insecurity. but, thats what you get for remaining anonymous.

damn URL, HTML, what the hell do i know about pc abbreviations?? and why am i so incredibly ignorant of the world??

oh, loahdie, what will become of me???

time to start cutting into them wrists again... the blades are calling... do you hear their soothing metallic song? like a siren in the desolate nights. a desperate soul. the darkness worn as a delicate shroud... beautiful. still. perfect.

peachy.

noir.

desolation.

time to forget

now is the time to 4get.

cleanse thyself.

there are better things to get at.

time for a new start.

time's elusive.

get positive.

not sic.

Not hurt, just supremely annoyed

*fume* *hate* *reject*



*anger*

and, not forgetting, *confusion*

how could 1 do this to another??

hatRed And purPlE succubi

who does this sort of thing? i mean, really.

once again, to be misled then tossed aside, discarded. twice is too many times. why this repitition of stupidity?? why dont i ever learn??

this sort of thing peeves me beyond any and all recognition. why is honesty such a scarce characteristic? why lie? what purpose does it serve?

why am i up to my neck in crap, scared out of my wits, and alone again? alone to face the fears and demons that haunt the shadows of my mind. ready to jump out and pounce whenever im most vulnerable. now, with no one to talk to, or confide in. when will i learn?

no good can come from this sort of behaviour. this breeds hate and contempt. what the hell was i thinking? [oh, but it was different then, wasnt it? there was a lot of mutual excitement and like-age going on. now, there is but emptiness and aloneness. and dark dank fear. evil fear. worry. unsurity]

excuses. bogus excuses. they are enough to make me wanna throw up. they make me wanna ... kill with wild abandon. i see red. red. red. i see people. dead. dead. dead. ... well, one person in particular. but, the self-hatred is there just the same. to be USED in such a manner!! how absolutely horrid! how could this happen again?? when will i learn?? no one can be trusted. especially not the cute ones. ESPECIALLY those. they are filled with decrepid deceit. falsities. lies. corruption.

i want nothing more than to talk of my fears... i want nothing more than an affectionate, sympathetic ear to listen to my troubles, give me a hug and tell me everything will be okay. and instead?? i get: emptiness: "stay away from me, you psycho hag!! i never wanna see you again!!". which leaves me to wonder: what the HELL did i do?? where did i go wrong?? what should i have done differently?? i thought something mutual was going on. some sort of friendship forged.... i thought. i thought. i thought. silly silly me.

and now? who knows. id as soon slash my wrists than go to a doctor. id rather wither and die, than seek help. why should i? isnt this what i deserve? there is no cure for stupidity. and, ladies and gentlemen, ive been had. again. in the most horrible ways. my trust, shattered. how am i supposed to believe anything anyone ever says to me again? lock me away and throw away the key!! i deserve nothing less.

stupid, stupid me. i shouldve known.

i wonder what he is thinking. i wonder... only a few things could instigate this sort of bogus excuse-making: easier p*ssy. boredom w/ yours truly. i dunno what else. perhaps i truly am disgusting. i mean, why else discard me in a manner so cold. so very cold.

shit. fuck. bitch.

on meeTing tHe man of my drEaMs

the void beckons daily. it cannot be escaped. and it is always there... faintly calling.

one day i too may have the [questionable] privilege of creating a spawnling. with the grace of the gods, and various other deities, it may come out semi-normal and male. [i know, there is no normal]

he will be intellectual. strong. muscular. better than any alcohol-induced wet-dream than old dolfie could ever have wished to have... he will be a good boy. strong features. a strong sense of right and wrong. someone who will relentlessly seek the truth of all things. be intrigued by all things. always wanting to learn more.

cant wait. i want to get to know him as soon as possible.

his name, will be matthew.

what next? the good part. i get to choose what he will look like and be like. i get to choose the molding from which he will be created. i get to form and shape him, to the best of my abilities. i will take him into my care and do my best for him. beacause who else would?

he will be the most gorgeous person to ever grace the face of this planet.

he will be honest, humble. he will be the picture of good health and good upbringing. he will have an adorable crooked smile, indicating slight shiness. he will have a practical mind. he would selflessly share and save. he would be a marvellous cook. a bit of a neat freak. he would suck the marrow from life. enjoy every moment. be active. run and play. he will want for nothing.

and if "he" turns out to be a "she", her name will be lauren. or christine. or stephany. or lilian.

bless it be.

hoMOgeneous vaRiEty

in the recent past, there has been solace to be found in the most awkward of places. who knew this could be a plausible result? who saw this coming?

[what do i wanna bitch about today?]

lets talk about futility. existence is futile. ah - the ultimate quest for happiness, to most, in any case. i wish i were closer to my destination. but it just doesnt happen. randomness.

im feeling uninspired today.

it is futile to even try.

figures.

last 1 2DAy, pRomisE

there are songs that make me miss people and times i never experienced:

other songs i like in the same way i like 1979, by the smashing pumpkins, include:

- sex and candy, by marcy playground
- anything by placebo, especially, nancy boy, special K, every me + every u, pure morning
- iris, by the googoo dolls
- ava adore, by the smashing pumpkins
- mr manson's tourniquette and the speed of pain. [both of which you must remind me to play for you at some point]
- clown, blind, faget, pretty and especially trash, by KoRn
- blue eyes, by SND [yes, i know its about family murder, thanks]

there are more of these melancholy songs which makes me miss people and times i never experienced, but wish i had. i just cant think of them right now.

my anthem still is and will forever be: Self Esteem, by the Offspring.

feel free to share your internal dialog.

<i can handle anything, even if i cant handle YOU>

*procrastination*

tiMe is A Wasting...

no, seriously. are you?

i wish i had a double $ for everytime i thought of suicide. id be rich and alone. no longer just alone. what would i do with the money, u ask? [we all know money doesnt buy happiness, dont we, friends and neighbours?]

id get comfy. :1 munny doesnt produce happiness, but it can get you busy... :D u cannot buy friendship... i know, i know! get off my back! *aaarrghhh - the pressure* it burns, it burns!

how about these ppl who cut themselves to feel better? i personally, prefer the thought of anonymous copulation. a lot more pleasurable. more reason to wanna kill yourself! [ah - more whore-moans being utilised here...]

play my game...

i personally know the man from nantucket. there was some incident involving a bucket? *wahahahahaahaha*

the dementia isnt as bad on most days, doctor. really, it isnt.

lets talk about art. another practice which relies solely on perception. personal tastes, etc. i mean, how does one make that into a sort of career, unless you have oodles of charisma to compliment your artistic endeavours?? these are the thoughts that plague my eternally erratic mind... [or what historically should constitute as being my "mind"]

<you will always be my whore>

"should" -> now, there is a word that has no concerns when it comes to screwing up the masses. who decides what should and should not be the so-called "norm", anyway?

[remember now, young grasshoppers, there is no normal, like there is no spoon]

*cringe*

i digress.

wa shi no wa hi yo

watashi wa neko desu.

steP On me SomE moRe, plZ

in my humble opinion, most of the blogrs around are pretentious cretins... c".

type for the sake of typing.

seems, i have found my home. i cant control myself..

<i can never give you all the things you need>

and to all you unoriginal repeaters, remember the endtimes are nigh. no one can escape the burning. no one can escape the longing. long i have searched for companionship. only to find that in this "blog", i am as alone here as i am anywhere else. the world is passing me by. and time is the evil conspirator, joining the world on its abhorrent path.

no one is going to save you, young one. the world is an evil cold soulless place. it will rape you and discard you. without so much as a thought. know this. for it is the truth. there is no compassion. like there is no spoon.

maybe i spend too much time with myself, by myself. beware, dear non-existant reader -> when exposed to my melancholy meaderings, you too will be adversely affected, as i have been. there is no madness. only truth. open your mind to the truth revealed here.

there is only pain and suffering. time separates pointless happenstances.

its a mad world. [right on, mr jules!]

if no one reads my blog, does it still exist? if i am disregarded and ignored by everyone, do i exist? in all probability [represented by P, students], probably not. im still waiting for the day il feel good. the tragedy is that that day will never come. there is always comedy in tragedy: i am transparent. i am no one. there is no salvation. there is nothing.

nothingness.

obsEssiVe compulsivE disorder

this is one hell of a learning curve. where do i find a how-to manual on typing up source code??

<are you faking when you say you love me?>

mayhap time is my mentor.
time is elusive.

bastard.

whore-moans

another day.

ladies and gentlemen, what is a horny tweenager to do? life is a tentacled abomination. filled with gaping dark maws of death and corruption. who knew it could turn out this way?

in a twisted conicidence, 2 were joined in lustful abandon. then, the drama starts. who knows what harm these abhorrent actions would produce. pain and suffering, more often than not.

it figures.

doctor, im ready for my shot now.

the screaming masses

the vestiges of my mind oft regurgitate masses of gelatinous uniquities.

this will be the excellent setting for usurping productivity.

i blame the system.

yell. scream. or fall about.

there is no way of getting out.