SHAKING FIST ANGRILY.
Focus. Nothing else has ever mattered more. Sure, life doesn't make sense. But ... you can't hold still. Adapt or die and fucking GET ON YOUR HAMSTER WHEEL AND LIKE IT. No more of this trippy escapist shit. The constant irritation that is reality must be embraced. Kinda like celibacy, sobriety, and shirts made out of nettles.
About love. I hate repeatedly reaching the same conclusion, so I must hate love. I'll just skip out on the "be in a relationship" thing, mkay? Fuck this.
Life is misunderstood, and life is death.
Goodbye, grandmother.
No. I don't feel like being coherent. Bite me. I will NEVER INVOLVE MYSELF WITH A WATER SIGN AGAIN. YOU PEOPLE SUCK. From here out I will only fornicate with fellow fire signs, air signs, or both. The support people are very very NOT US and it's kind of irritating sometimes. Screw diversity. I will never suicide because if I embrace life, death will chase me around anyway ... probably with a stick. What an asshole.
This is my existence, my mind, my hell.
When I dream of death, I dream of a final moment caught in repeat forever. A stupid pointless loop of my last breaths and my mind's incredulous realization - hey. I'm fucking DEAD. Usually involves semi trucks, speeding, and losing games of chicken. DAMMIT!