(no subject)
My reputation as an extremely irate person is by far the biggest understatement in my pseudo-illustrious. I look around, behold the filth and decadance prevalent in this gruesome society, and perceive it as is: filth. For years I have wasted space with aeons-worth of odious rantings, incessant ramblings, stark ravings, grim mutterings, and inane commentaries about what I define as "die scheiße des leute" (the shit of people). It is with disconcerting confidence that I proudly associate myself with this motley order of humans. Yes, I am filth. Yes, filth is me. I am no different from the mercurial pseudo-bourgeoisie who, partly due to a gross lack of understanding, hurl insults at the more astute yet scruffily-robed students. My callous nature, engendered by my impassive treatment from others, is one of my biggest hypocrises: I complain of society's lack of compassion when I myself lack compassion! Oh what to do? What to do? Better dead than wasting the Earth's wanning resources!