Bitter is Better
It is somewhat challenging to make posts here that aren't all "dear-diary-today-i-jerked-off-and-wasted-my-life-because-that's-what-its-there-for" kinda posts. It is also somewhat challenging to write a sentence using the dash key instead of the space bar. How well I am programmed. Key vs. bar. FIGHT! See, I kinda don't want to share my ingenious insights on life, because I don't think they are. I think they belong in a private little book that only I may see, primarily because, they only apply to me. We make our own way through this greasy fucking Hell hole of a jungle, and some ass clowns e-writings should serve as no more than a warm blanket, or at the most a sharpened stick for hunting or protection. They sure as shit aren't the pathways themselves. See, because the subject heading, it came with a nice, tight string of logic and quippy little thoughts that made me think over top of those thoughts "aint i clever" but after a couple minutes I remembered I aint. Now, several glasses of wine later, I have but bitter resentment for my asshole self. And my last post, my. That turned from my magnum opus into a fusk show rather fast. I did horrendous things that night. Things that I literally will not live down for at least another year. In all seriousness. And I am still trying to figure out why. And, what I failed to realize years ago when I wrote here regularly, that is my problem. I am not stopping to figure out why. Or even what. Why do I do the things I do, why do I want to smash things? And what, followed closely by why, am I really even thinking or feeling. Yikes.