maybe i have a lot to say. but right now, everything i want to say is directed to you.
yes, you. the one who’ll never read this , and even if you did, you probably wouldn’t give a shit.
but right now, all i’m asking is for a fraction of your attention, maybe just so you could hear me say this
and i mean this sincerely,
so listen up.
no, seriously. fuck you. fuck you and your fucking plaid shirts and your fucked up walls and your addiction to that fucking band that EVERYBODY LIKES, BUT NOBODY LOVES. WHY?! BECAUSE THEY’RE GOOD, BUT THEY’RE NOT THAT FUCKING GOOD! No one’s going to remember them 20 years from now, asshole! and fuck your creepy man-crush on that beat poet. It doesn’t make you cool that you want to be gay, because newsflash, you’re not fucking gay, and i know that firsthand. You act like you’re so fucking deep and so fucking messed up and no one understands you but that’s a load of bullshit because there’s nothing to fucking understand! you’re not some special kind of genius, you’re just a fucking teenager who’s either high or horny all the time, or both. When you write down those “poems” to try and make yourself seem fucking transcendental, I know it’s just lyrics you copied, you pretentious prick. You’re the most hypocritical person I’ve ever met. It’s sad that you need to get high and drunk or whatever sort of fucked up all the time to survive your mind-numbing, miserable life. But to be honest, I don’t pity you, because we all have to live through it. And most of us can do it without pussying out and running to weed and other drugs. You just act like you’ve got a special kind of misery, like no one understands you, like you’re really gonna mean something, but you’re just another fucking teenager. Grow the fuck up.
the sad thing is, even though this is directed at someone else, it sounds like I’m talking about myself for most of it.