A Dark Age
Uh...so, yeah.
For those of you who have noticed, or have cared to notice, or whatever the heck, I've been emo lately, ever since Friday. It's awesome. I've joined the ranks of Mike and stuff. I feel proud. Maybe he can induct me into the honorary hall of emoness. It'd be an honor.
But...uh...yeah.
Just another lovely lapse of self-confidence/worth/esteem/oscmvsivmeu. Then, I had an annoying morning today, only having gotten about an hour of sleep, having eaten no breakfast, and a whole bunch of other stuff. Yeah.
Well, to those that it possibly annoyed, I apologize. I know everyone, their mother, and God, Himself, has been depressed/SAD/suicidal lately and the last thing anyone needs is one more emo. Besides, everyone else has more serious problems than my crap. So, yeah. What am I down about?
Nothing, really.
It's nothing.
Yay.
I hate work.
I don't know why I just said that. But, it's true, though. I do. I really do.
We should make an Emo Hunting Season. It'd rule. We'd pack up all the emos, put them all on a remote island, and just drop a nuke. That would be the cure for clinical depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, schizophrenia, Tourette's Syndrome, every other psychological disorder/neurosis out there, and acne. Yes, even acne. Depression would be extinct. And so would pimples.
I think it's a good idea.
Any comments? I'd love to hear them. I'm lonely. -_-