....I can not see a damn thing. I don't even give a fuck. I don't want to see a single damn thing. Besides, I already know what is in front of me. A bottle of empty pills that have been sitting there for too long.... a new fresh bottle of fukin vodka that is half gone.... and some bullets. No gun.
Now why the phuck isn't there a gun? Son of a bitch! F'ing hell. Good. That way I won't see that there is no gun that I can't shoot myself with. My fuckin misery will get better because of that.
I'm sitting alone in my dark room. The damn curtains are shut. I covered the damn window sill with so much cardboard that light cannot get the hell in. The river of phuking tears cannot be seen. It is too dark too see it, as visions of my life flash before me. I was not meant to be here. You are all bastards. Burn in hell.
You want to know what is making me say this shit? How about my “dad”? Go find him and kill the bastard. I don't know where he is. He was too busy setting out to fly to China to find a fucking penny he lost there when I was 8. He still hasn't returned because that's how stupid he is. A penny is more important to him.
And my “mom”. Don't you DARE get me started! She is the rudest and loudest bitch you will ever meet.
I don't care if you find me offensive. If you find this offensive, then you are cursed with love and happiness you sick bastard.
And if I do not find a girl soon to keep me sane, I know exactly where to find a gun.
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