Today

Start sad, be slow.

Dredge through the shit and go nowhere.

Light up for a second, think there's a way, try and explode.

It's working. Look at what's coming alive. Beautiful.

Wait, no it's not. It's not working at all. The beauty was shit.

What can I do? The fuse was used and I can't find a new one.

I'm going to stop for a little bit and start stacking powder kegs into my heart.

My Pal Megan Is Where I Got The Name 'Coolthulu' From, for the record.

The worst thing about that website was that it wasn't 'Antagonize.'

One day I would love to find a community of psychopaths and maladjusted masturbators and join them in the spirit of spitting venom and other fluids. I just can't find any comfort or fraternity among people who are too afraid to tell each other that they've written garbage.

One of my favorite things about my real friends is that they will tell me if I've done something unimpressive. Sure I cry for hours and draw up terrible revenge schemes but I appreciate the criticism. There is a place for compassion, but like booze if it's all you take in it's going to ruin you in ways that your brain will be too weak to really understand. Tell your loved ones how awful they've been and you will be doing them a tremendous service.

My mother and brother don't know a lot. That's alright because neither do I. But they don't want to know any more than they know now. That hurts to know.

It simply fucking hurts.