The Thin White Line of Understanding is as Frail As Your Wretched Bones
So, I was sitting on the toilet this morning while thinking how much I am so misunderstood and loathe my father. I ripped the Anti-Flag booklet and used it as toilet paper. My brother told me he loved me, but I slapped him across the face and gave him $1 to not tell mom & dad. I hate him. What other guy goes around telling another guy he loves him? He and my father should be boyfriends. Guess who called me. Harold & Eugene. They both called me and asked to hang out. I hate those motherfuckers so much. For those of you who are new to my journal, last year I posted a lot about these so-called friends. They were backstabbers. Before I went on hiatus and started anew, they told my parents I was depressed. Those dumb fucks. They don't understand how low I could be. My parents told me they loved me and that I meant the world to them, but fuck them. They can never understand a true poet like myself. I write beautiful words, and it flows out of me like doves in the November sky. Anyway, these losers wanted to go see a matinee of Brother Bear. I said I'd go. They were all happy. My father, the fucking fool, gave me $20 for the movie. He is so stupid, and I have him so fooled. Little does he know that when he gave me the money, I gave him the fuck you finger underneath the dinner table the other day. I hate him so much, and I hope he slaps my mother. My mother should have aborted my little bastard of a brother. I am like a fucking stranger in this house. I now know to the fullest extent what Camus wanted to express in his work. I am far superior than these assholes in this decadent town. I am so clever. I think I am going to put in some Bright Eyes hear someone kind of understand what it feels like to be like me. You can never understand. No one can fucking understand. Oh, I have to go. Harold & Eugene are here, going to see Brother Bear. I know it's going to suck. I am so much better than those jerkoffs. My mother just asked me to help her set up for Bobby’s birthday on Saturday. I said yes (but meant no). Me helping my mother tonight is going to make tonight the worst night…ever!