well i dont have to go to school yet so i have 20 minutes to do something. rather than even try to bother with my hair, i decided to write. its another miserably hot, muggy, awful day here in miserable michigan. home of misery. no wonder i smoke so many cigarettes and long for the oblivion of heroin. you would too if you were stuck here. and you can take that to the everfucking bank.
i read a lot.
books are my friends.
is that really bad? i mean, dysfunctional? because i dont think so. i think it makes more sense than having to please a shitload of real people and waste your life coercing them into liking you. because theyre all going to leave you someday anyway, you know. youre born alone, you die alone. everything and everyone in between is just filler.
or filling, if you prefer to think of your life in terms of donuts.
yeah, i like characters in books. i get to know them and appreciate them and respect them, but they never know me. which is excellent. because most of the characters in stories i like would probably find me disgusting and unworthy.
lets get this straight right now. right from the get-go. im not going to change your life. im not going to say anything you dont already know. im not enlightenment.
im just some suck-ass little shitface who writes and reads too much. because i dont have drugs anymore and i need to escape reality. because i dont fit. because i never fit anywhere. except in other peoples books.
i better get dressed. christ, weather like this, its too hot to think. its too hot to breathe. it hurts to move. and i hate sweating. it feels all slimy and very unfeminine. id smear antiperspirant all over my body, but i think it would do more harm than good.
blech.
humans are not meant to thrive in heat. when you think about it, all we are is basically meat. and what does meat do when temperatures climb? it either rots or cooks.
i feel like im rotting when summer hits. but then in the winter i feel slow and sluggish, too. like im freezing.
a middle ground would be nice. i seem to remember something called Spring and Fall when i was a kid, but maybe my imagination is playing tricks on me. wouldnt be the first time.
i read a lot.
books are my friends.
is that really bad? i mean, dysfunctional? because i dont think so. i think it makes more sense than having to please a shitload of real people and waste your life coercing them into liking you. because theyre all going to leave you someday anyway, you know. youre born alone, you die alone. everything and everyone in between is just filler.
or filling, if you prefer to think of your life in terms of donuts.
yeah, i like characters in books. i get to know them and appreciate them and respect them, but they never know me. which is excellent. because most of the characters in stories i like would probably find me disgusting and unworthy.
lets get this straight right now. right from the get-go. im not going to change your life. im not going to say anything you dont already know. im not enlightenment.
im just some suck-ass little shitface who writes and reads too much. because i dont have drugs anymore and i need to escape reality. because i dont fit. because i never fit anywhere. except in other peoples books.
i better get dressed. christ, weather like this, its too hot to think. its too hot to breathe. it hurts to move. and i hate sweating. it feels all slimy and very unfeminine. id smear antiperspirant all over my body, but i think it would do more harm than good.
blech.
humans are not meant to thrive in heat. when you think about it, all we are is basically meat. and what does meat do when temperatures climb? it either rots or cooks.
i feel like im rotting when summer hits. but then in the winter i feel slow and sluggish, too. like im freezing.
a middle ground would be nice. i seem to remember something called Spring and Fall when i was a kid, but maybe my imagination is playing tricks on me. wouldnt be the first time.
semjaza:
Sorry 
