(no subject)
Dear World,
I want to shoot someone.
Or beat them up very badly.
I'm sick of this.
All of my friends live so far away.
And I'm not talking about my 'friends' who so fucking egotistical, inconsiderate, and immature.
I'm talking about my friends. That give a shit. Who can actually tell when something is off beat about me. It seems like no one can tell when I'm upset here.
Well, here you go. I will spell it out for you, like I always do: I am upset.
Very much so.
Just dress me in a funny hat and stick with Beetlejuice because "I am completely and udderly alone."
Screw you all.
I'm tired of apologizing when I'm upset. So I'm not going to this time. Because I'm not sorry. Not. At. All.
Yes, yes, yes, it's all my fault, I started it all. I know! But real friends wouldn't be so fucking rude about it. In fact, real friends would of been there for me in the beginning.
But, let us face the facts: there are no such thing as real friends.
Especially not in this sheltered surburbia where "Oh my! They drink and smoke! They must really be troubled children!" Oh, yes, the fact that you live in Club West must really be depressing. And I cannot believe your parents gave you that expensive car for your 15 1/2 birthday! How do you all live under such circumstances? It's simply amazing.
These words are to deaf ears, since it's Nothing that they hear.
I'm running away with Kris and Kyle.
Not really. They're happy in Mesa. They don't want to leave.
So I guess I am stuck here. Maybe I should learn how to drive.
Good gods, I still want to shoot someone. I'm that violent at the moment. I am shaking with rage. I'm dead serious.
I think I will do something stupid.
I'm just going to leave. Go to the mall and laugh at the sceansters. Yeeeeesssss
I want to shoot someone.
Or beat them up very badly.
I'm sick of this.
All of my friends live so far away.
And I'm not talking about my 'friends' who so fucking egotistical, inconsiderate, and immature.
I'm talking about my friends. That give a shit. Who can actually tell when something is off beat about me. It seems like no one can tell when I'm upset here.
Well, here you go. I will spell it out for you, like I always do: I am upset.
Very much so.
Just dress me in a funny hat and stick with Beetlejuice because "I am completely and udderly alone."
Screw you all.
I'm tired of apologizing when I'm upset. So I'm not going to this time. Because I'm not sorry. Not. At. All.
Yes, yes, yes, it's all my fault, I started it all. I know! But real friends wouldn't be so fucking rude about it. In fact, real friends would of been there for me in the beginning.
But, let us face the facts: there are no such thing as real friends.
Especially not in this sheltered surburbia where "Oh my! They drink and smoke! They must really be troubled children!" Oh, yes, the fact that you live in Club West must really be depressing. And I cannot believe your parents gave you that expensive car for your 15 1/2 birthday! How do you all live under such circumstances? It's simply amazing.
These words are to deaf ears, since it's Nothing that they hear.
I'm running away with Kris and Kyle.
Not really. They're happy in Mesa. They don't want to leave.
So I guess I am stuck here. Maybe I should learn how to drive.
Good gods, I still want to shoot someone. I'm that violent at the moment. I am shaking with rage. I'm dead serious.
I think I will do something stupid.
I'm just going to leave. Go to the mall and laugh at the sceansters. Yeeeeesssss