I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up. I give up.

I am so, so tired of breathing.

i really don't know how much more of this i can take.

only i could somehow have the wherewithal to allow myself to start falling (pretty seriously) for a gay girl.

i hate my life.

so.

so.

much.

i'm profoundly sad.

what a shitty year.

"No one likes the mopey kid in the corner of the room."
"No one likes the fat kid either, but that's his own fault."
"So it's not the mopey kid's fault that he's being all mopey?"
"Maybe it is. Maybe he's a self-pitying parasite. Or maybe, just maybe, the world is full of assholes."
"Asshole."

These are the lyrics my friend Raph wrote. He's a genius. He performs under the moniker Hezekiah Jones. Go to his My Space at www.myspace.com/hezekiah11.

Cupcakes for the ArmyI sit all all day and I'm pining for some sun it's playing ghost ( Read more... )

When the victim is a sex worker ( Read more... )

if sexual frustration is even the word for it.

if it wasn't abundantly obvious to me before, it is now. without a drastic, dare I say, miraculous intervention into my brothers life, he will be dead very soon. if i'm sure of nothing else in life, i'm sure of this. he told me he loved me tonight, for the first time since i was little. he was drunk. probably high. who knows if he even meant it. ( Read more... )

Oh.

My.

Imaginary.

Diety.