This is my life, Your reading me, Not the site
I am Sean's angry, frustrated, and broken down sense of everything. Hiding behind this mask of a cold, hard person.
Money, money money money. What the fuck does anyone else think about, but money. The root of all cold, hard, destructive people. The reason for our greed, the reason for our hunger, the reason for our discomfort. Not the reason for our anger. Not the reason for our frustration. Not the reason for our being broken down and left as shards in a never ending void. The only Reason for anything that really matters is other people. One's who haven't faced reality. People who pretend, people who do it cause its cool. Fuck them, and Fuck their philosophies. Fuck everything that they've ever done, and everything they will do untill they reach this nirvana, this enlightenment, This thing that truly is reality.
I am Sean's frustrated, lonely soul.
Ever notice that whenever you ask someone who they are, they give you a fucking name? Steve. Who the fuck gives a shit about steve? Steve Mardiblef. Who the fuck gives a shit about Steve Mardiblef? You are not your name. Your name is your label. Your name is your identification to those you are already aquainted with. Who am I? like I said I am Sean's frustrated, lonely soul, who only wants to have someone to talk to. My outer shell, dares not even reflect the twisted agony that is me. So lemme ask you something. Who the fuck are you?
Money, money money money. What the fuck does anyone else think about, but money. The root of all cold, hard, destructive people. The reason for our greed, the reason for our hunger, the reason for our discomfort. Not the reason for our anger. Not the reason for our frustration. Not the reason for our being broken down and left as shards in a never ending void. The only Reason for anything that really matters is other people. One's who haven't faced reality. People who pretend, people who do it cause its cool. Fuck them, and Fuck their philosophies. Fuck everything that they've ever done, and everything they will do untill they reach this nirvana, this enlightenment, This thing that truly is reality.
I am Sean's frustrated, lonely soul.
Ever notice that whenever you ask someone who they are, they give you a fucking name? Steve. Who the fuck gives a shit about steve? Steve Mardiblef. Who the fuck gives a shit about Steve Mardiblef? You are not your name. Your name is your label. Your name is your identification to those you are already aquainted with. Who am I? like I said I am Sean's frustrated, lonely soul, who only wants to have someone to talk to. My outer shell, dares not even reflect the twisted agony that is me. So lemme ask you something. Who the fuck are you?