Just sent that lousy soulmate of mine an email stating
subject: HATE
body: DONT TALK TO ME FOR A WHILE

re:
I'm digging too deep into the past without gaining anything from it. So I was inspired for a while. If that person no longer wants to be inspiration for art, then sucks to her. Sucks to the whole goddamn idea of soulmates, of being able to spit on the wrists of adulthood and to flicker around like innocent little fireflies. [it all looks messy, but i do believe in what i write; which is more than what i can say for most of you]

Also,
i can't save anyone but myself right? They say I'm too nice.

I think it's bullshit that I'm choosing to act differently, but it's not making me happy? You win world, I'll be cruel like I have been and we'll see what kind of monster I become at the end. I'll die with a cigarette in my mouth and a blindfold around my eyes (red). And I'll calmly lift my head and slide my hand around my chin and jiggle my wrist [as i find that gesture of lifting your middle finger uncouth and disgusting {don't think i have forgotten ANY of you who have done it in front of me}] , calmly proclaiming my name for all to hear:

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! WHO HAD THE LAUGH LAST NOW?!"

and then they'd shoot that big apple off my shoulders and reveal a core of jelly worms and box closets.

"He held the strangest things close to his heart. Why?"

A UFO comes later and kills everybody with its lasers. That's how I'd like to imagine my downfall, with aliens killing my suppressors. Only my friends on the moon know what it's like to be this salty. And in the ocean