Impressive...most impressive...but you still suck ass
I saw The Departed tonight two times. IT was a good movie after all. Good ending also.
So I get back home and I find that someone left me a voicemail message. It was someone whose number was 305-807-???? and I listened to it closely. It was some guy who said that he read my Livejournal and that gave his opinion about the stuff that I have written on my diary. In the background was some girl and maybe someone else laughing. He said something to the point that he was calling me weird and a loser, along with saying some other worhtless shit. Now after I finished hearing the message and deleting it, I thought more about who was the douchebag---or douchebags---that did this. So I looked into my contact numbers part of my cellphone, and there was the same number that I had heard in the voicemail prior to hearing the message. It was belonged to none other than that red-headed bitch from last semester. Yes, the one that nearly sucked the life out of me. Yes, that one. It looks like she let her boyfriend call me, using her phone. Now I saw this douchebag earlier this week at the FIU Lobby. We looked at each other, but nothing happened. I just walked by like nothing had happened. I wasn't afraid of him at all. It's funny how things happen. They might enjoy their Valentine's Day, but the bliss won't last that long. AS one friend told me one time, things don't last...
...as for being called weird and a loser, that's like saying to Dimebag Darrell that he would never amount to anything. Well look at what happened; he grew up to become one of the best guitarists of all time, along with the greats of Eddie Van Halen, Slash, Jimmy Page, Jimi Hendrix, and so on. What I'm trying to say here is that several years from now, I might be in the newspapers or magazines for doing something significant---like being this great singer for some badass band, or being this revolutionary computer scientist---and those two asswipes, along with everyone that looked down on me, will...well, let's just say that I would like to see their faces after seeing me in the media.
Now how do I end this? I'm still standing after all the shit that I've been through. I have scars all over me. But I'm still here.
So I get back home and I find that someone left me a voicemail message. It was someone whose number was 305-807-???? and I listened to it closely. It was some guy who said that he read my Livejournal and that gave his opinion about the stuff that I have written on my diary. In the background was some girl and maybe someone else laughing. He said something to the point that he was calling me weird and a loser, along with saying some other worhtless shit. Now after I finished hearing the message and deleting it, I thought more about who was the douchebag---or douchebags---that did this. So I looked into my contact numbers part of my cellphone, and there was the same number that I had heard in the voicemail prior to hearing the message. It was belonged to none other than that red-headed bitch from last semester. Yes, the one that nearly sucked the life out of me. Yes, that one. It looks like she let her boyfriend call me, using her phone. Now I saw this douchebag earlier this week at the FIU Lobby. We looked at each other, but nothing happened. I just walked by like nothing had happened. I wasn't afraid of him at all. It's funny how things happen. They might enjoy their Valentine's Day, but the bliss won't last that long. AS one friend told me one time, things don't last...
...as for being called weird and a loser, that's like saying to Dimebag Darrell that he would never amount to anything. Well look at what happened; he grew up to become one of the best guitarists of all time, along with the greats of Eddie Van Halen, Slash, Jimmy Page, Jimi Hendrix, and so on. What I'm trying to say here is that several years from now, I might be in the newspapers or magazines for doing something significant---like being this great singer for some badass band, or being this revolutionary computer scientist---and those two asswipes, along with everyone that looked down on me, will...well, let's just say that I would like to see their faces after seeing me in the media.
Now how do I end this? I'm still standing after all the shit that I've been through. I have scars all over me. But I'm still here.