Sometimes, I think I'd rather die if I have to live another minute of my life without making comics. I hate the last three years of my life so profoundly that I can only hope that I make it out of this rut to look back upon this period of my life with the disdain I currently feel about my high school years.
My Fuel is Pure Graphic Fury. Bullshit. My heart is hatred and distrust and a dissapointment with the world that hits me on cold lonely nights. I'm not about doing my best, I'm about proving that I can do it and making just enough money to scrape buy. My life is a compromise. My anger: muted, impotent and spilling out around the edges, just a tiny bit when it overflows.
Strip me and bruise me.
Cut me and fight me.
I want to feel like I am truly alive.
My life is the muscle tensed just before the punch is thrown, but the punch never comes. I am a spectator of my own life; the only thing I can manage to do as I wish is have sex with great-looking women. How I managed that, I'll never, never know.
No pity required. Just wasting the hours.
Fuck! I feel so fucking worthless right now. How the fuck did this happen?
My Fuel is Pure Graphic Fury. Bullshit. My heart is hatred and distrust and a dissapointment with the world that hits me on cold lonely nights. I'm not about doing my best, I'm about proving that I can do it and making just enough money to scrape buy. My life is a compromise. My anger: muted, impotent and spilling out around the edges, just a tiny bit when it overflows.
Strip me and bruise me.
Cut me and fight me.
I want to feel like I am truly alive.
My life is the muscle tensed just before the punch is thrown, but the punch never comes. I am a spectator of my own life; the only thing I can manage to do as I wish is have sex with great-looking women. How I managed that, I'll never, never know.
No pity required. Just wasting the hours.
Fuck! I feel so fucking worthless right now. How the fuck did this happen?
I guess that sounded pretty stupid. Oh well.
Just fucking make a comic.