The Final Scholastic Exam of My Entire Life
umm. . . probably not, but in England I think I'll be writing essays, not exams. As you can tell, I am doing so well studying that I had to just stop in the middle and write this entry to inform everyone on how great of a job I am doing. The test is only worth 25% of my grade, no biggie. Et ce n'est que francais, pas probleme. . . euh, non, j'ai menti, mais ca m'est egal. I am tired. I need some rest for my last day of school ever. . . or at least for 3 months and 3 weeks. . . and, well, I am taking at least one class for fun (and for free) in the spring/summer term. . .
Ever wonder why we do this? This right here. Are we really engaged in a private dialogue between ourselves that we allow others to break the lock to and read like a real journal? Is this just a bulletin for thoughts and ideas? Do we write to keep people posted on our lives? Do you think your life is really that important that we need to know what is going on it? Are you only fulfilled when there are lots of comments? Does this give us some kind of self-importance? Or, is this just boredom? I am bored so I write about my boring life summed up in used up language as I pass off nothing thoughts to you, a person so bored they obsessively check to see what someone else has to say in oder to fill up on something, and that something can only be more empty boredom. The internet has become electronic sex and drugs. We get off and we get fucked up on a digital scree, each time needing more. And we don't even know what this is. Fucking white powder that hums, hum baby, hum.
This isn't a live journal. No one is alive here. This is the forum for the dead, all those who died in a car crash with reality and lie in a coma of irrelevance. So, here I write meaningless thoughts without provocation. Spin the fucking wheel and guess a goddamn letter until you solve the puzzle. Let them all light up and turn over slowly until it is all revealed. What does it say? GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY
Can I write outside this box? No, but most theories are self destructive.
I am fucking Jesus of words. Nail me to your posts and entries, let me sacrifice my life for your self improvement. I'll tear out my eyes so you can see yourself how you want.
Wow, sorry about that little trip. That is what boredom will do to you, I tell you what. I have to go over relative pronouns.
Don't take me serious, slave.
hahaha, I'm just fucking you. . . with you that is.
Ever wonder why we do this? This right here. Are we really engaged in a private dialogue between ourselves that we allow others to break the lock to and read like a real journal? Is this just a bulletin for thoughts and ideas? Do we write to keep people posted on our lives? Do you think your life is really that important that we need to know what is going on it? Are you only fulfilled when there are lots of comments? Does this give us some kind of self-importance? Or, is this just boredom? I am bored so I write about my boring life summed up in used up language as I pass off nothing thoughts to you, a person so bored they obsessively check to see what someone else has to say in oder to fill up on something, and that something can only be more empty boredom. The internet has become electronic sex and drugs. We get off and we get fucked up on a digital scree, each time needing more. And we don't even know what this is. Fucking white powder that hums, hum baby, hum.
This isn't a live journal. No one is alive here. This is the forum for the dead, all those who died in a car crash with reality and lie in a coma of irrelevance. So, here I write meaningless thoughts without provocation. Spin the fucking wheel and guess a goddamn letter until you solve the puzzle. Let them all light up and turn over slowly until it is all revealed. What does it say? GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY
Can I write outside this box? No, but most theories are self destructive.
I am fucking Jesus of words. Nail me to your posts and entries, let me sacrifice my life for your self improvement. I'll tear out my eyes so you can see yourself how you want.
Wow, sorry about that little trip. That is what boredom will do to you, I tell you what. I have to go over relative pronouns.
Don't take me serious, slave.
hahaha, I'm just fucking you. . . with you that is.