Step Outside, Summertime’s in Bloom

And after all, you’re my wonderwall. Today was gonna be the day, but they’ll never throw it back to you. I’ve strained myself, maimed myself, and completely lost myself for your sake. For the sake of love even, whatever the hell that even means. We really do have a lot in common. Came from different worlds but ended up with the same cantankerous zest for life. The same distance we thrived on with our loved ones, the same hatred we had towards mundane human beings. Though you’d never admit it, you hated yourself even more, just as I did. We’re not made for this world and the simplicities of life are what we crave, yet if we obtained what we had desired, we’d hate that too. The only thing in this blank and meaningless world that meant something, that we didn’t hate, was each other.

Are your friends really your friends? Or did they just become engulfed by your charm. Would you have that charm if you weren’t as easy on the eyes, candypants? No you wouldn’t. Let’s both be frank here, people accept you being around because you’re good looking, and people are vain. even subconsciously. You can kid yourself all you want into believing otherwise, but when it comes down to it, you’ve really got nothing. Science versus romance. Your I.Q. isn’t impressive, streetsmarts or otherwise, Your looks are enticing now, until you reach your mid-twenties, in which you will start to see the way I see now, and if you see otherwise, you’re only lying to yourself, which is the only efficient thing you can do. The negative comments you recieve on your blog, come from the people being most honest with you, without glitter splashing in their eyes, yet those hurt you most, not because of the content, but because you know they’re true. But lo’ and behold, I’m just the same as you are.

They say you can ever be with someone who isn’t your equal. For me, I will never find someone who hates and is disgusted by life as much as I am, so i’m doomed to be lonely. My contentment in that isn’t a secret. But for you, Everyone loves themselves more than anything else in the world, so it shouldn’t be hard to find someone who shares your interests, at least for a moment. Maybe you were right when you said you can’t love anyone, and that should have been a clear cut sign to me that it would never work between us. Yet, I was determined to prove you wrong and did what I could. The result was that I’m probably having a baby, and your cunt is as easily accessible as the Mexican-American border.

You’ve been caught red-handed, but it’s not what I’ve noticed. It’s that there’s still some part inside you that wanted to be caught red-handed. You know you’re incapable of becoming content with one lover and content with forged simplicities. Tiny apartment, plants, shit jobs, but artistic freedom, what you want is the world, but the world won’t give it to you, and you know it. You don’t deserve it, but you’ll try anyway. Until every last bit of you starts wishing it was birthed onto another person, and it all starts failing you. You didn’t just dig your own grave, your silly tiny mind plotted the whole thing.

This might be a ramble but at least I’m clear on my attack this time around. I’m not done with it of course, I need a coffee break. I was on the public transit with Oasis’ “what’s the story, morning glory” album. I don’t know what their deal is, but they seem to make more sense to me than any advice would sell. My friends aren’t the best options for advice yet neither are yours, (whom apparently have no idea that you secretly hate them very much. I’ve discovered this through their brittle attempt to defend you.) The time on in transit with Oasis allowed me to think, and what that has produced is an eccentric revenge tactic that will conclude in your family disavowing you, and possibly drive you into madness. But I won’t do it. I know what it’s like to not have a family, and I would never wish or will it upon anyone else. But If you’re doing things that your own family whom you claim to love oh-so-very-much can’t know about it, what makes you think your highly tolerant ex-boyfriend (fiancee) would? Fuck you for being a retard, seriously. But I love you for being what you were to me. Now I’m going to step on your pretty little head to climb out of this volcano of indolent pretentiousness. Deflect all you want to now in your blog, but that 32 year old bloodsucker and those other ones captivated by your scandulous soft core porn will never hold you as tightly in their plastic hearts. They only want you to feel the touch of a man, and by that, I mean their penis’s in your vagina. But you don’t really object to that do you? Hmpf, well, godspeed, fucker.

thanks for reading my release.

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