i was writing a reallĀ„ emotioanl poem about art and the nature of morality and how death makes youre art meaningless unless you can get it out there.
but i accidentailly deleatlyed it, and now heres some s**t https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-7vzlnCTrk&list=WL&index=104



also i am a peice of s**t who doesnt deserve the mom i have she's too good and pure and proabably wont' even mention taht i drunkenly ranted about dead sempais who arent even sempais and also how sausage parthy is litterlly the worst thing ever. i forgot what iw was talking about ******** suadgae parthy, it's quite lliterally the wort movei ever ******** all of you.
******** you. don;t see sausage aprty , see kubo and the two strongs and cry. and then read orphan blade and feel like the shittiest human being alive.

i actually havent'felt this actually awful since reading oyasumi punpun. and uh... if anyone in the whole world knew anythign about me that would be a preatty stronge mark of some kind of quality.

But its not even quality. Orphan blade is the kind of s**t hat the kind of writer i'd want to follow for the rest of their lives turns out on their first try. The thing is, it was their first try, but they don;t get they rest of their lives. They get nothing. Because the person who wrote it is dead.
dead. fucing dead. and it makes me so irratioanaly scraed that I, or someone i know personally is next.