Personal issues.

Let's see... I have a problem with me.

Okay, so it isn't one problem but big a truckload of them. Tough. So I decided out of plain boredom what horrors I can present myself with to the world. I mean seriously, who wants to take a damned hermit for real? I certainly don't and anyone who believes me is suckered all the way.

One. I hate just about everything, simply because I stopped loving a long time ago. There was that feeling I had being nice but I think that part of me died. I wonder how the fuck I could put up with so much shit from people who couldn't give anything but crap back. Retribution doesn't exist.

Two. Having a temper is good but indifference is way past better. I mean, what is the point of blowing up when all I could do is laugh until my eyeballs burst with humour leaking out of them. Either that or a wicked little snigger would suffice to soothe the sinister soul. Ah, to be the sadist.

Three. I like spending money on presents for myself. And now I'm seriously in need of good cash. Now how the fuck do I get a pussy of a local diploma and then a degree? Damned institutions behave so bleedin' uppity, they think they're, what, kikes? But what do you expect? I have no love for the stupid country I live in. Multi-racial my yellow ass.

Four. I hate having a conscience. Really, I really don't need a soul. Seriously, the meaning of life is only 42. So what's the point, really? I am just a piece of meat joined together by cartilage, tendons and all that stuff.

Five. Loneliness is the best thing to have. Who actually loves to share a public toilet? Or borrow a tattered library book? Or go out and dance in filthy mosh pits in smoky, sweaty that trendy dance clubs that boast orgies that actually emphasize our enslavement to the most primal of needs. Fancy how we can actually ourselves the most mentally developed creatures on the planet. I wonder if I need friends...

Oh, and if you think you really me? You don't. Only I do.

Dismally myself,
Lyne