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Firstly I'd like to take it upon myself to apologize for all the things I've previous written. I was young and smoked far to much weed. While writing my previous post I was hoping edge and randomness could make up for the lack of substance and grammatical errors.

Now I intend to write something grounded and realistic. While I hope to someday return to the fantasticall I fear my nihilism my polute the quality and though this won't be a cheerful affair in any regard, its a recounting of events.

He stands there completing the same task he has performed for roughly three years. His hand are caked in grease the smell of his sweat mixes with that of cooking flesh and he feels his temples throb. His heart beat with not with a steady thrum but a fast and raspy thud. It hurts especially bad now after what happened.

Earlier this day he handed to phone to the man currently at his right. The wemon said she wanted a reservation for a rehearsal dinner. [author note, I don't know what a rehearsal dinner but it sounds certified Wonderbread as fuck]. Apparently she was looking to have her friend wedding to be just like hers and she "cheap lowbrow food" for hers. The man as he always does took it personally.

After the prior incident he lectured me for my dislike of a famous chef. He was so enraptured by the man he sounded like another man my talking about billionaire for desighnes cars the loathing for for them both will not be stated. At some point there was and interjection. Isn't tearing people down to build them back kinda just using them like tools.

The man stood in thought for a second. Likey less in thought and more in surprise his tirade was cut short heaven forbid another have any thoughts. He responds in kind with " that's what I've been doing with you these past few years isn't it" a smile plastered on his face.

I don't know if I can convey what happened next but I'll do my best. Have you ever felt the sensation of a blood vessel in your eye rupture. The reputure was beneath the eyelid where it couldn't be seen for that I was thankful, I wouldn't let anyone know what I felt less they be less happy for it. Later checking my eye ravellied the open vains so I know it wasn't in my head like I was in that moment.

Before today I thought I knew hate, I thought I had spent the last few years writhing in it. To be honest the bar was set so low its laughable. Said bar had just shoot through the atmosphere through every star that dare lay in its path and reached the ends of oblivion. I held my tongue as pure vitriol threaten to spill.

I don't know how to form the sensation in words but I'll tell you all the thoughts I had in the moments that followed. "Firstly you fat four eyed fuck why would state that like like a positive. I'm an alcoholic mess who can't take care of anything in my life and while I'm sure I would have turned out the same cause of my parents who shouldn't of had the right to bear children at least I wouldn't be stressed and i could have more free time while doing it.

Secondly people in the modern age hate thieves and lairs you know why. Society tells people to hate those who steal and don't tell the truth. Oh evidence the majority oh Greek and even Nordic mythology how's that. Most heros in tales of old were a liars or thieves. I hold criminals of these crimes in no contempt cause if they needed it that bad they should have but do you know what I find to be utter erridemable trash.

I'll preference this next section by saying when I say the word in question I'm not referring to the perfession. I've known many people in this pursuit I admire even considering them as friends. When I say the word I will give my definition of it. Teacher, noun. A person who talks at you not with you.

I hold "teachers" in utter contempt and disgust. The man before me was one of these. The day prior when I brought up the notion that humanity was better off when we only had sticks cause we couldn't threaten the whole of existence on the plant and we weren't depressed cause survival was the only thing on our minds I was being morbid.

He thinks of human as tools and I'm to sit back and say nothing against it. This man accosted me for not liking to make eye contact with clerks cause it feels too personal. Says I'm "dehumanizing them" and turns around and defends treating people like tools.

To drive home the spade he start quoting a Hindu fuck he listened to on Joe Rogen last week who said "peace come from within". The kinda fucks who say that shit can sit happily with themselves for 2 seconds. I can't sit happily with may self cause I know there is something fundamentally broken about me. To unhuman to just do what's best for me and to human to not let constant niose not get under my skin.

Why can't I ever consciously do do something in my my own best interests if it negatively impacts another. Somethings not right with me I don't feel human. "History stops us from repeating mistakes" has to be the stupidest thing I've ever fuckin heard. Don't use modern society as and example. Everything will gravitate to a point of max efficiency. Human have evolved to fight, fuck and feed better. We've learned nothing we still hurt others constantly.

I have no mouth and must scream doesnt apply I could voice up but the dense moral I've taken up forbids it and I'm applauded for it I hope this wasn't to distressing to read but I had to get it off my sheet which is still racked guilt at my nature.

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Her

There is someone I know very well although we've never meet. I know her voice, as sweet as silk and as soft as honey. I find it funny I know her so well. We never talk while we walk not a single word is said. Not a single glance we share yet I know the midnight color of her hair, I never touch for I couldn't dare. But I know the feeling of her silky fair obsidian hair. I know the depth of which can ensnare with but a glance of her peach n amber eyes. I only wish I knew why we haven't met yet

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Only those who seek death with joy unparalleled to that of any ever felt can receive life never ending.

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Flips coin. " Heads I'm going to last period tails I'm gonna take a nap at the skate park. Heads. " alright nap it is."

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Do men make monsters to excite them selves or is it the feel of terror they give us. Do men make monsters? Of course we do. Since the dawn of time and before nothing created by man, god and even the infinite that we float in is scary than the minds of men who hurt men. Men who kill not for the hunt, not to survive and not even for killings sake. No men kill them selves for money, for power and pleasure. Men who hurt in the name of greed. Yes we make monsters. We make them so we can sleep easy. So we can sleep without fear of our selves.

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I think my hats are plotting to kill me. And to make things worse I had to bite my hand 16 times. I nearly drew blood on the first two, all of that just to keep calm. I’m sad and hungry all the time. I’m unusually tired. God I miss the thing i had forsaken for the easing of my father mind. I don’t even know what’s going on as far as work. So many troubles so little time to set things right. I just wish I could sleep easy one more night. No matter how easy the question I can’t get them right. I don’t seek a High place in which to flight. Just a soft bed and a better dream tonight.

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He slips out of his door and hops to the corner of the rug. He slowly steps on the floor between the table and the closet, where the floor is noise. His dad is asleep on the couch. Fallen asleep to one of the many movies we have. He tip toes over the broken tiles in the kitchen floor and open the fridge to take a small sip of his father coke then goes back to bed.

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I had a dream last night. I was with a friend or something like brother. The entire dream I was fighting. All we can do is fight one another continuously. Each others blood showered our mangled forms ready to drop dead from exhaust. All we could do was to look at what we had done to the other. Our weapons lay broken from clashing against one another. Our blood and that of innocent, coats the walls and fire burning the already destroyed city around us. Once again it falls to pieces to build another day.

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Work I saw light flicker. I pointed at it and said he hasn't been feeling well before I even realized what I was doing.

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I stook my hand on the crack of my bed yesterday trying to cool down my arm and get comfortable before bed. After my hand went semi num I swear I felt two angelically soft a nimble fingers barely graze the tips of my fingers. I was there questioned my own senses and awe struck wondering if what just happened was real. I Just thought you'd like to know.

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My sister's don't yet realize that they can be cancer when there to hyped up on social media and shity music not to mention they act this way around there friends so they not only think it's ok, but that it's funny. My sisters will laugh the most dreadfully high pitched laugh over the shity social media joke that every just wants to die.

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It's kinda sad the only reason I knew it was St Patrick's day was the pornhub logo. It changes just like the Google one

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Today while I was at work I saw a girl looking at the bird cage. I went up to her and told her that the guys are the ones with the orange cheeks and she said always the prettier ones. Then she winked at me… This made me upset cause I couldn’t talk to her because I was at work and even if I wasn’t I still couldn’t. I also saw a container that read fabulousos. The waiter said my name four times over the span of ten minutes but each time she acted like she didn’t actually need me. Is existence truly a worse fate then oblivion. What random force is at work when you leave something behind or set you drink to close to the edge of its perch. It could be random but is anything random. If we could build something that could tell the future could we stray if not then nothing is random. If we couldn’t then nothing is under our control but it would still be random to us... Is anything an option or is it random if so does it even matter.

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Quick to heal wounds but the trauma never leaves. The act like there fine but there truly dieing on the inside as they weather like the once beautiful flowers we will remember them as.

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I feel my pain through laughter. I feel my hatred broil when I smile and I express my sadness through my joy. And as my emotions nearly flow over the cusp of my self I know my actions are my own. My feeling are my tools to build a better self. And there is no beet way to fix my self than by the examples of my friends.

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There are a million things I can think of that I can talk about. None of which concern me at this moment. My only thought is how shit got fucked up as fast as it did.

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No hats. Out of stock for a week. Possible two.