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Spaghetti and Meatballs ... July 04, 2004
i wish i wasn't such a loud, rude bastard. really. i just want to find one single person who understands that all i want is to be told to shut the fuck up. i talk too much. it's rude, and i can't bring myself to care enough about whoever i'm talking at to be able to make myself stop. i figure, hey, if they are not brave enough, real enough, to tell me to shut the fuck up, then they deserve every fucking moment of the torture i subject them to. i know no one cares about my life enough to really listen. don't think i go around like a blonde cheerleader sorority girl bitch, thinking that everyone cares about ME, that they're all watching ME. no. i know you're all too concerned with your tiny little lives to even realize that there are other human beings unless they are of some use to you. don't think i don't know that's how it really is. i mean, i am human just like you. well, sorta. what i mean is that i know listening to another person's stories about themself is comparible to having your guts stirred around and wrenched, still steaming, out of your open chest cavity with a spaghetti serving spoon (sans anesthesia), but i do it anyways because it makes ME feel better. you? if you can't grow the balls to stop me, like i wish you would, i don't care if your ears start bleeding and you feel the need to knaw your own arm off in an attempt to escape. all i can say is, please pass the meatballs.
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