You could say that I've gotten sick of everyone.

We are different. Teenagers are different. We wear different clothes, we listen to different music, we look different. We are not the same. However, there is one thing that links us teenagers together: We are all fucking whiny as hell. It's not like we actually try to do something about it. Most of just sit in our rooms with the lights off and the computer screen on, listening to that same song that somehow attached to our heart - to our soul - over and over again until the tears start to flow and the bad memories start filling our heads.

I've often heard the expression, "The smartest of us are the most depressed." It's true for the most part. I mean, who wants to hang out with a little Asian kid with glasses and a 4.0 gpa? No one really. You might as well feed him to the Ku Klux Klan, because seriously, this kid is going to be crying a lot during his high school years. He's probably going to look at himself in the mirror and start punching his cheek bones until his knuckles are sore and his jaw has a purplish bloody look to it. And after a while, he's just going to stop looking in the mirror because he can't hold back the tears. He just can't anymore. Do you know what I'm talking about? When you're that fucker that can't even look in the mirror anymore because your self-esteem is dying along with your hopes and dreams?

Okay, rewind a little bit. You probably have no idea what I'm talking about so far. Take a good hard look at yourself. Count the times you've cried over someone who you know will never have a chance with you. Count the times that you've dreamed up the perfect person to spend the rest of your life with, but having it all end up shit as someone tells you there's no such thing as the "perfect person". Stop and drink a shot of vodka before moving on. Count the number of times you've cried and you didn't understand why. Loneliness is hard. Vodka is easy. Choke it down, nobody cares.

From this point on, don't confuse me with what I'm talking about. I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore. That's about it for this entry. That's about it.

Nobody cares about you. Nobody cares that you ate a sandwich during third period. No one cares that you saw the popular kid with a crew cut and a collared shirt trip in the hallway. No one cares that it filled you with happiness. We all bitch about things like this. We all bitch about other people. We always bitch about ourselves. Oh please Matt, go to the homecoming dance with me. Please, PLEASE ask me to prom. At least ask me to Senior Ball. I'll give you my number so we can keep in touch after graduation, all right? I love you Matthew. You have no idea how many times I've cried over you. How many times I've cut my skin and called myself ugly because of you. How many times I've thrown up both because I've tried to impress you with my body and because I've grown sick of myself. I hate you Matthew. I only loved you because I'm a fucking dog that smelled you. You are beautiful.

Smoke a cigarette here. Start wheezing here. Start dying of lung cancer here. Stop caring here.

Now as I'm moving on here, be reminded that I am tripping on acid and listening to Mars Volta. Oh dear god, I want someone to fuck. I mean seriously, I'm going to cut the emotional bullshit and let every girl who reads this know I've probably masturbated about you. I've probably imagined you naked and pictured me fucking you. Is that what you wanted to know? Is THAT why you keep coming here? Is that why you're scratching at my skin until I bleed? Until I fucking admit that all I want is someone to hold and hug and talk to and just FUCK? Sorry, I forgot. I shot you. I broke the bottle and stuck the glass shards through your throat. I kissed your lips as I slit your wrists. It all doesn't matter. I'd fuck any cadaver, anyway. It's not like the dead have genders. They're just corpses. And then reality twists again and you trip on acid and you start getting quite scared because you don't know what's going on and you suddenly realize what you've just admitted and how nobody, NO ONE will love you because of it. Did you know some people have some sort of disorder where they carve what they hate about themselves in their body and urinate and defecate all over the scars?

Exoskeletal junction at the railroad delayed.

I remember there was a time where people didn't talk in sentence fragments. Where every goddamn sentence didn't end with an ellipsis. Oh I don't know... at least people are trying nowadays. We invented the internet. It's not like someone invented it for us. It's not like someone is telling us money is everything and that we need it and that we need it and that we need it. War is peace, war is peace, war is peace. Ignorance my friends, is STRENGTH. Monday, Tuesday, Happy Days. Oh my god, I'm tripping on Acid. Pop a few Ecstasy pills here. You'll feel a lot better once the light-headedness wears off. To hell with it. Smoke three cigarettes to keep the light-headed feeling. SUICIDE SUICIDE.

Walking around school and being that kid that everyone labels the loser, the kid who doesn't talk, the outcast. Walking around and thinking how wonderful it would be if you were the hero, if you were the jock, if you were the kid that everyone loved. The handsome one. The beautiful one. The personality with the super ego. If you saved her life and she fell in love with you. Is that what you want? Sure, everyone wants that. Everyone is crying inside right now. Why can't we do anything about it? Why are we the most advanced species in the world and we can't even overcome emotions? WHY THE FUCK ARE WE SO WEAK?

Please take four acid pills now. I'm pushing acid. I'm pushing it far and beyond. I support tripping out and throwing up all over the letters she wrote to you. You know, the letters that she wrote to you as she burned her arms with cigarettes and listened to soft rock music in her shithole of a kitchen. Those letters. The ones where she tells you how much she misses you and how much she loves you and how much she NEEDS you. Do you remember them? My tongue wants to kiss that girl. To play with her hair. To maybe stab her a few times and then lick the slime off of her face. Her voice was so cute. I remember it. Telling me she loved me.

Oh my god, I'm starting to lose it. I'm starting to really go crazy.

You've started to wander inside of my head because this is what it's like in here. This is why I'm so quiet. I'm struggling with millions of thoughts at once. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Please, you've got to help me. I'll help you. Take these pills. Thank you. Instead of using water to swallow those drugs, use rum or gin. I'm the uncircumcised youth of a generation of SLOTH and IGNORANCE.

What kind of bleak future is ahead of us? I don't really know. I just kind of feel like ripping out your heart and drinking your blood.

Fuck you,
-george