it's a good thing i'm not drinking...

i have to catch a plane in like seven hours. i've not packed. i'm tired. i drove home today. and this is probably going to seem like a weird drunken rant buuuut i just feel i might actually sleep if i finish this...

i am so goddamn tired of people.

henceforth, i'm leaving. gone. poof. i am tired of the selfishness by individuals who have no fuckin idea what a fuckin metaphor is and immediately assume everything i write is about them or concerns them in some way. that poem was strangely about one of the only people who would FUCKIN understand it, and said individual has said NOTHING.

i did this monitoring, insanity, paranoia, obsession with who i see, what i FUCKIN WRITE...why, and immediate relation to themselves before...

i cannot believe close friends are doing the same thing.

please, delete your bookmarks and pretend i don't fuckin exist.

maybe i should make a different identity...anonymous...

i'm not writing in communist china here...if you don't understand a simile, metaphor, or fuckin ME go away...

the house thing is looking good, to be fuckin alone without any of this high school retardedness is so very very appealing.

and as a sign of my own personal stubbornness, newfound independence, and just WHATEVER i'm not fuckin taking that down. i love that fuckin piece, the rest of you think whatever the fuck you want to think because i don't fuckin care anymore.

i'm going to my cave, and won't be back.

goddamn i hate fuckin people.

(not you GOB...you're the only fuckin saving grace).

and i'll take this down tomorrow when i'm less fuckin pissed off.

i walked the fuck home fuckin alone.

hfduafhdougefuhrewoituewtpoersafdnmskfdxzNK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!