Current mood:	crushed
Current music:	Kool and the Gang - Hollywood Swingin'

Filthy Little Beast
"I'm a shark infested ocean, I dare you to dive in it."
-Project Wyze

I am the kid that dies of cancer, before getting a chance to lose his virginity. I am the person with admirable dreams, but sits in his basement watching television all day. I am everything and nothing all at once. My opposable hands are designed to assist my life, but all they do is assist in other people's death. Feel life every day like you feel when having sex with your favourite hat still on. That is my advice, but who takes advice from a theatre employee that has consumed more ecstacy tablets than pieces of popcorn? Fuck that salted styrofoam shit anyway, or pay the preposterous costs and enjoy. That is life for you in a handbasket, essentially. You can either fuck it, or sacrifice and enjoy. Work hard, bring home the bacon. Practice, become skilled. Train, prove your strength. Sit around all day with no ambition, rot away like a fallen apple. My spirit is browned and bruised. Stop complaining, Wayne, you fucking hypocrite. The very words I speak make me want to slit my wrists, make me satanistic, make me take the pistol to my face and place the clip and cock it back and let it go until my brains are ripping out my skull so bad to sew it up would be a waste of stitches. Take another shot of whiskey, it burns so bad my saliva drips off my bottom lip. I try to take a deep breath, but my mouth is full of shit and my nose is clogged with cocaine residue. You will probably never understand when I get excited over every white particle embedded in the carpet. This is the expensive price I pay to be content. Have I lost my way, or have I found the answer? Who is to decide? One half of my brain convinces me that I am indefinetely mistaken, whereas the other half assures complete devastation. Not too promising, if you ask me. I found a cancerous growth on my stomach earlier today - eternal sleep is my only destiny. Dying makes me want to become ruthless, relentless, utterly internecine. I want to invade people's homes and kill their entire family in spite of my misfortune. Have my way with the wife and sink a red, hot lead chunk in the back of her skull (before, or excitingly afterwards.). I want to obliterate everything they have worked so fucking hard for, and take it as my trophy. Life just isn't fair, I have come to accept that. It isn't fair how I want to write novels but am too drunk to complete the task, it isn't fair how I want to show my mom how much I care for her but dont have enough money to do so, it isn't fair how I want to bless this girl's life but she isn't willing to let me. I dont deserve a loving mom, I dont deserve a desirable girlfiend, I don't deserve a famous, best-selling novel. God gave me cancer, that is his way of telling me that I do not deserve to exist.