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Another three-part rant.Now with excerpted spelled correctly |
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Odds, ends and then agains.
I'm thinking of leaving. Just pack up and gone. I'm tired of this flat town with no skyline. I want to go somewhere, see something new. This mundane drawl my life has sunken into is pissing me off. I want out. Now. Maybe I can use my miles card to get a one way ticket to England. Or France. Hell, even Canada is fine. This city, California in general is grinding my nerves to a fine powder of angst. This state is full of morons, intersperced by the rare person who doesn't remind me of all the things I promised myself I wouldn't become. ******** ******** ********, ******** s**t....It isn't just California, it's the whole damn country. I need to leave.
P.S. Maddox is a p***k who likes his own opinion too much.
Red ribbon hullabaloo.
I generally am not an easily angered person. When it comes to blatant stupidity, that's a whole 'nother matter. If you've read any of my journal before this, you'd know that by now, I hope. Rejoice children, for it's Red Ribbon week. For those of you (lucky bastards) that don't know what I'm talking about, allow me to fill you in. It's the official "Say no to drugs" week. Because you don't know better. Posters resembling slogans that Big Brother (The character, not the reality show... stare ) would be proud of litter the halls. What kinds of drugs do they mention, you ask? Pot? Nope. Crack? No. LSD, PCP, Heroin, Meth, E, Roofies? Hell no. Every single poster mentions the same drug. The cigarette. Apparently those drugs that if not properly made can kill you in minutes pale in comparison to one that's produced in a factory and will cause you problems 40 years down the road if you smoke two packs a day. I'll go smoke some crack. Way safer.
P.S. Your wallet shouldn't hold more than your brain.
Got issues?
I'm falling apart at the seams. I guess that's why I decided to write this entry in the seam of my journal. I have no clue what's wrong with me. Colors are there, but they fade in my mind. I can't think straight unless I'm pouring myself into this journal. Words, they're meaningles to me now. Just synonyms, nouns, verbs...Nothing but shallow terms used to communicate. On the outside, things aren't much better. The skin on my hands is peeling on my hands so badly that it looks like I've suffered burns. Lotion does nothing. Everyonce in a while, my trip to the bathroom involves blood accompanied with it. Whether it be my reoccuring nausea, or the usual forms. I also think my hair is falling out. What the ******** should I do? Mom won't take me to the hospital. Blah, maybe I should just die...No. ********! I don't know what to do, what to think, or whether I should even be alive anymore!
P.S. R.S.V.P stands for a french phrase you wouldn't understand.
 Captain_Cynic · Tue Nov 08, 2005 @ 11:39pm · 0 Comments |
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