Fuck
Tired of hearing people whine to me about shit that, in the grand scheme of things, DON'T FUCKING MATTER.
I may bitch and moan about shit, but it doesn't interfere with my life.
Ask anyone. I could be pissed the fuck off about something, anything, and you know what? I still do what I want to. Go out, anything. Nothing fucking stops me. No one fucking stops me. No matter how big or small my problems are.
If you are in my way, you better fucking move. That's all I can say. Booya.
I've been told I'm angry. That I always look pissed. If you could dip inside my head for 1 solid minute, you would hate people, too. Most people would probably break down and cry like a bitch if they felt how I felt most of the time and experienced my good times.
Sure, there are people out there with worse problems than me, but my problems are still mine, and I don't shove my shit in THEIR face now do I?
One stupid girl are work wanted to know what was one my mind. What I was really thinking. I told her simply she doesn't want to know. After a solid 3 hours of giggling and pestering, I pressed her to a wall, looked at her in the eyes with my face 1 inch from hers and said low enough that only me and her could hear.
"I think about how much I fucking hate all of you. How I'd rather be with people I give a shit about. How all your little gossips, tales, bullshit, and drama interfere with my job. How your personal laziness and apathy slows me down. Last, but not least, all around the clock, I daydream about mass murder. Satisfied?"
Apparently she was. She doesn't even make eye contact anymore.
Honestly, I'm a mess. I'm a nice guy from waht people tell me, hell, even a sweetheart to some. My mother tells me I have a heart of gold, and I like showing compassion for people and random acts of kindness. But over that golden grass field I have the biggest darkest fucking cloud you could imagine.
It's always raining.
Always.
I may bitch and moan about shit, but it doesn't interfere with my life.
Ask anyone. I could be pissed the fuck off about something, anything, and you know what? I still do what I want to. Go out, anything. Nothing fucking stops me. No one fucking stops me. No matter how big or small my problems are.
If you are in my way, you better fucking move. That's all I can say. Booya.
I've been told I'm angry. That I always look pissed. If you could dip inside my head for 1 solid minute, you would hate people, too. Most people would probably break down and cry like a bitch if they felt how I felt most of the time and experienced my good times.
Sure, there are people out there with worse problems than me, but my problems are still mine, and I don't shove my shit in THEIR face now do I?
One stupid girl are work wanted to know what was one my mind. What I was really thinking. I told her simply she doesn't want to know. After a solid 3 hours of giggling and pestering, I pressed her to a wall, looked at her in the eyes with my face 1 inch from hers and said low enough that only me and her could hear.
"I think about how much I fucking hate all of you. How I'd rather be with people I give a shit about. How all your little gossips, tales, bullshit, and drama interfere with my job. How your personal laziness and apathy slows me down. Last, but not least, all around the clock, I daydream about mass murder. Satisfied?"
Apparently she was. She doesn't even make eye contact anymore.
Honestly, I'm a mess. I'm a nice guy from waht people tell me, hell, even a sweetheart to some. My mother tells me I have a heart of gold, and I like showing compassion for people and random acts of kindness. But over that golden grass field I have the biggest darkest fucking cloud you could imagine.
It's always raining.
Always.