03092009

I wrote this last night before I went to bed:

Right now I'm in one of those moods where everything I see pisses me off. I have a package of pop tarts with a cartoon on them quoted saying:

"Wanna arm wrestle?"

No. I want to punch you in the face you stupid cartoon.

I wish that i could hide under my blankets and make time pass by faster. I want to end up on a day where my life doesn't feel like a complete wreck. Who the fuck knows when that'll be?

There's an empty box of valentines. I'm not even sure why. They're the kind that you give out to all the kids in class on Valentine's Day. I took one out and with a pen I wrote on it. There's a box of crayons on it and it says:

"You color my world. I love you"

At least that was what it said before I scratched words out and wrote them back in. Now it says "You ruined my world. I hate you." The crayon box has a blackened eye and is missing some teeth and is frowning.

My Zune is full of happy, lovey music that you think would cheer me up. Nope. It just makes me crave more cigarettes and want to put a fucking hole in the wall with my fist. And I need to conserve cigarettes. So I'm listening to Throwdown, eating pop tarts and drinking a bottle of Vitamin Water. How wholesome?!

I couldn't just write a book on heartache. I could write an entire fucking series.

I'm done with being hurt by her. I should be happy. But why the aggression? Why can't I stop thinking about it?

I wish a ninja would break into my house in the middle of the night and kill me when I was either sleeping or at unawares. This would fulfill my lifelong desire to meet a real life ninja. Wouldn't that be neat? Just like taking a ride on the Universal Tour, but through a goddamn Jackie Chan film.

What's funny is I have a television in my room that I'm pretty sure I'll never use. My parents always come downstairs and ask me to turn down my music though on my stereo and I don't think it's nearly loud enough. I need better headphones or something and then I will be FREE!

I'm writing this on a series of post-it notes, so some of this might be out of the order that I wrote it. Not that it matters. It's all random bullshit squabbling. I need to stop being so cheap and actually invest what... like three dollars into a legitimate real life notebook. Because fuck this.

All of my clothes smell like cigarettes and I haven't worn most of them since I washed them. I don't know how that works when I smoke outside.

(I wrote something here but I scratched it out. Something sexual and crude more than likely but I can't read it).

Scratch that.

I hate love. What a paradox.

Fucking. Stupid. Shit.

And people wonder why I don't trust anyone anymore. I should just make a note to walk around people when I meet them before I open up to them to see what they're hiding behind their back.

I really do want the world around me to burn to the ground so that I can start from scratch.

As long as I have my pop tarts, my Vitamin Water, my cigarettes and my friend: The Box of Tough As Fuck Crayolas.

I regret not numbering these little sticky notes. So far I have about eight or nine of them. Yes, I write small. And yes, you probably can't read it. Right now as long as you get the point, I could give a fuck less about fluidity. And just so you all know, everything I write that isn't typed is in fucking cursive. It's even hard for me to read, let alone anyone else.

I want to scuba dive and make friends with all of the ugly fish. Then I want to fillet and eat the ones who aren't ugly because I am NOT eating an ugly fish.

Time time time.

I haven't set my clock forward. I don't want to get up either. Damn me and my snooze button hitting tendencies. I put the clock across the room to prevent that. Now I'm going to pass out and wake up an hour late for work.

(Which I did the next morning, hahaha!).

I REALLY want to watch Pulp Fiction.

I also really hate talking about myself but no one gives me anything interesting to talk about anymore. And fuck having life experiences when you don't have friends to share them with. All of my good friends moved away, leaving the superficial bastard fucks of Erie, PA behind. And now I'm back, neck deep in the people who used to use me to build their scene popularity years ago.

I write everything in cursive that doesn't have "Please print" underneath it.

I envy my Christian friends sometimes because the reason why I turned away from religion is because I felt God abandoned me. ME! Of all people. And not them... these hypocritical bastards who go on tour and fuck girls half their age after drinking 5454376576 beers and doing drugs they don't even have names for yet. Fuck that.

I don't trust in God anymore. Every time I pay for something, I'm telling a lie. :-x

I'm so forgetful sometimes that I forget who I am. I'm ashamed of this fact.

I want to be done with being such an asshole.

My dog is my best friend in the entire world and he only likes me because I take him for walks so that he can shit in other people's yards. I don't pick it up either because my neighborhood is filled with douchebags. I would know, I'm one of them. And I tried picking it up with the plastic bags one time and it made me throw up.

I hope this was entertaining.

*NOTE TO SELF*
Burn this after you post it online so that your parents don't find it and see how fucking CRAZY you are.

Love,
-Daniel