Here’s the deal. I’m tired. I’m sick and tired of being sick and fuckin’ tired. People are  way off base on what they think they know of me because frankly they know fuck all about fuck all. I’m tired of having blame placed on me when I had nothing at all to do with the situation. How is it my fault when someone ELSE reacts the way they do? My bad fuckin’ attitude did not somehow rub off on them because when it comes to workign with children I DO NOT HAVE A BAD ATTITUDE!!!!

As awful as this sounds I will eventually slip and say something really awful to her. I will tell her I hope she chokes. It will eb the end of my job but it will be so fulfilling ot tell her what I truly think. I’m not a bad person but you can only push someone so damn far before they snap. I’m at my breaking point already but I refuse to give them the satisfaction. What was it that N said? There’s safety in numbers. Build are army to bring down the head of it all.

I’d like to give a hearty FUCK YOU to those who think otherwise. FUCK OFF!

Please forgive me if I’m being a bit harsh here but I need to get something off my chest. I fear if I don’t real soon I might just implode. That wouldn’t be a pretty site at all, though some would marvel in it. Maybe even bask in the glow of said doom. Anyways, my point. Get to the point.

It seems these days that the only way to get along with people and to be accepted is to lie through your teeth and/or kiss major ass to obtain friends. I hate to break the mold, but I’m not about to sit here and parade some bullshit feelings around that are a complete and utter pathetic lie. How is kissing someone’s ass and throwing a few useless cyber hugs around going to cure depression and decrease the rate of suicides? For me personally I thought a few home truths or a bit of honesty would help people see that suicide isn’t the answer. Excuse me for thinking that words instead of just “hug hug oh sweetie I’m sorry” would correct or ease the situation. Apparantly the cure to depression and suicidal tendencies is to throw that yellow sunshine around and say I care. After all this time I thought that it was therapy and help in real life by real life doctors. Well, I’ll be damned. I guess myself and a thousand other people have been barking up the wrong tree. I’ll be sure to tell those cured from seeking help in a medically trained field that we were wrong and then I’ll throw them a huggy hug and show them the true meaning of HEALING.

All these overpriced head doctors got their degrees for nothing really. Who would have thunk it? They just wasted years on getting masters and bachelors degrees. We should have told them “No you fools. Just send a hug emote. That even cures the most incurable diseases” Don’t waste your money on the high priced education that mommy and daddy so wanted for you. Make sure you inform them that that’s not a way to get a good paying job anymore.

***NEWS BULLETIN***

The word emo is no longer available as there are no more emo kids running amuk. They have been CURED. They have been saved. The evil mastermind known as **DR. DEPRESSION** has been taken down. He has been battled, beaten, defeated and maimed. He know longer exists. The cure!! You must know by now. The cure is the little ball of sunshine named **CAPTAIN HUGSALOT**. Bow down and thank the mighty captain. He’s our savior.

HAIL CAPTAIN HUGSALOT for curing the such things as emoness, sadness, depression, suicidal thoughts, the need to self harm and the common cold. You are our one and only savior. Fuck therapists, fuck doctors, fuck medical help, fuck meds. Hell, even fuck God because none of that is seemingly the cure. It’s pure and simple Captain Hugsalot.

***END NEWS BULLETIN**

**END TRANSMISSION**

Beep…beep..fuck I need a hug.

I’ve been around long enough to know that “different” is not permitted. You must conform to being a carbon copy void to be accepted anywhere.  You need to smile and say “yes” and “i agree” to everything otherwise you are an outcast. Any kind of honesty or forwardness is shunned. You get dumped on and treated like crap if you have an opinion outside the norm. If you are “different” you may as well head for the hills because all you will get for your thoughts is a backlash of angry mob mentality, carbon copy bigots.

It’s like living in hell trying to prove to people that conforming to this idiocracy is not normal. It’s bizarre and unethical. It’s also like living in hell when people accept that it’s okay to lie. People bend over backwards to try to help those that are basically lying through their teeth. For myself, I personally cannot twist and bend like a pretzel into believing that that is okay. It’s not. Period. End of story.

How is lying blatantly okay? How is making up such awful stuff deemed truthful? When the lie is right in front of your face how is the person screaming the truth the asshole? How is that person deemed the outcast? Are people so against seeing that this world is full of lying pricks? They are so brainwashed into believing everything everyone says is the truth. If I sat here saying “I saw a 10 pink elephant walking down the street” would you believe me? Sadly you’d probably say “yeah I’ve been there, seen that, done that, bought the t-shirt.”

It’s disgusting. It’s ridiculous. It’s also quite possible that coming here made you dumb. Maybe you were once smart, hell maybe even genious level. The problem is as soon as you hit that accept key to conforming you somehow lose any ounce of crediblity and smarts you had.

So what do I do now? Do I let the conformist pigs win? Do I let the brainwashed sociopaths create my destiny? Do I walk away half angry, half resolved to the fact thay I give up? Why should I fight for something I believe in…the truth…when the truth isn’t acceptable? Should I conform and lie about everything in my life hoping people don’t wake up and realize what a crock of shit it really is? I don’t know anymore. I really don’t know.

It just really sucks that people are such mind numbing morons now. I’d like to have a thought provoking convo with a non robot.

—Beep. End Transmission—

Sometimes it gets to the point where you want to just stand up and scream “Enough is Enough”. When you reach your breaking point and you can’t take much more of people’s shit, what do you do? Do you sit there and continue to take it and be a good little listener, a good little friend or do you tell them to shut the hell up.

I’m tired, really. Tired of the listless babbling from people that mean so little to me. I don’t know them. They sure as hell don’t know me. They never even bothered. They just like to pretend they know every detail of my life and chime in when deemed necessary. In the end of that they end up looking like a complete asshole because they have no idea what I’m talking about at all. It’s so stupid really. So, the point is this: I should stop helping people becuase they are of no help to me. They don’t offer up anything besides bitch bitch bitch and moan moan moan. I could moan and bitch all day about all my misfortunes but instead I decide to turn them around and change it.

I’m tired of people sitting on their asses thinking that by bitching it’ll simply get better. Get off your ass and change it because no one’s going to change it for you. Do something? See someone? FIX IT! Don’t bitch to me about how you hate life because you have no job and no money. Get off your ass and look for a job and get money. Seriously, I’m not going to do it for you. I’ve got enough on my plate.

Take responsibility for your life because seriously…ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!

How is it fair to keep letting an 8 year old boy suffer? How much more are you going to throw on his plate before you let up? Huh, God? Can you answer me that? How much is too much? How much before you decide that he has suffered enough?! My patience is wearing thin God. My belief in you is nil. Why would I believe there is a loving God when you decide to take from a child?! He’s destroyed you know God. Wrecked. He keeps asking me why. What the fuck do you want me to say to him?!

Make me suffer. Make me hurt. Make me sad. Leave him alone already. LEAVE HIM ALONE. He told me yesterday that this past year and a half was the best time of his life. She took him everywhere. She loved him so much and he loved her. Why do you keep selfishly taking people away from him? Why do you keep making him feel like there’s no one in his life? God, you are dwindling in my eyes. I don’t believe in you much anymore.

My brother barely sleeps anymore, you know? Has nightmares he says. Can’t sleep because he dreams he’s dying. All because you took her away from him. You are a sadistical fuck, aren’t you? Do you get off on making people hurt? Do you get off on taking good people away?! One day I’d like an answer. I’d like absolution.
Until then I don’t really think much of you.

Not since Aretha Franklin’s R-E-S-P-E-C-T have I seen so many artist’s spelling words in their songs. It’s like they are trying to convince themselves or convince their audiences that, yes indeed, they can spell. Yes indeed, they are smart enough to spell such difficult words.

Who knew that Danity Kane could spell such words as H-E-A-R-T or that said heart is oh so D-A-M-A-G-E-D? They are in such pain about their damaged hearts that they have to convey that message to you by spelling the words. It’s amazing that they even could muster up such words as their hearts broke into so many pieces. I mean really, I am utterly impressed that their vocabulary is so large.

Then there is Fergie who has begun to spell words in practically every song she sings. There’s G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S and D-E-L-I-C-I-O-U-S. Did we really need to know how glamorous or delicious Fergie is? Like we can’t tell by how much money she makes or simply just by looking at her. Also, if you cared to know Fergie is absolutely T-A-S-T-Y. Doesn’t that just make you want to go lick her epicenter? Now the saddest thing out there is that she even needs to spell her name outloud just in case she forgets. It’s F to the E-R-G the I the E. The poor dear doesn’t even remember how to spell her name so she has to remind herself daily. It’s either that or she wants you to never forget her name, not that the name Fergie is so familiar that you’d forget.

I don’t know who they are trying to please more, themselves or their audience. Do you ever wonder if while they are performing live they misspell the words that they are trying to spell. That would be pure entertainment in itself if they stumbled on the words trying to remember how to spell such words as delicious or tasty.

So in order to become famous, to make millions, to make it big you must whore out your spelling. You need to beg for R-E-S-P-E-C-T. You need to be D-E-L-I-C-I-O-U-S. Most of all you need to be G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S. Sing your spelling words adn you will earn millions.

She’s never felt more broken in her life. She looked in the mirror at her sunken in eyes and shuttered. She had cried for so long and so hard her eyes were not only bloodshot but her face was streaked with tear stained mascara. The thought of having to face people she didn’t want to be around made her tremble. She didn’t want to have to deal with the constant questions. Not tonight of all nights. Not tonight.

Underneath her hard exterior she was crumbling. She worked so hard to keep that wall up so no one could get in. The night they met though he changed her world. The words he said mirrored hers. It was so odd how they were so in sync with each other. The sadness in his words made her heart ache. She wanted to reach inside of him and show him the love he deserved.

The night that they sat on the rocks and talked for hours was heaven. She felt like things were finally in place. She felt comfortable. She felt normal around him. He rolled up his sleeves in mid sentence to show her how much pain he felt. One by one she traced the lines of his self inflicted scars wishing she could take them away. She gently leaned over and kissed them.  Not just one scar but all of them.  She wanted to show him tenderness. He deserved to know what it felt like to be wanted and not just discarded. She knew too well the feelings of hatred welling up inside.

As she kissed his scars she looked up at his face and saw peace. His eyes fluttered slightly but remained closed, soaking up the sweetness of her lips touching him. She wasn’t just touching him, she was kissing away the remains of torture.  She was kissing his scars. He couldn’t quite fathom why she would do such a thing but he didn’t want the feeling to stop.

That night they stood there and shared something. They shared the hope that maybe things could be different.  He kept telling her he knew he’d die by his own hand but at least for a night he was at peace. The cold brisk air penetrated their sweatshirts making them shiver but all the while refusing to move from that spot.

She believed him when he said he would eventually commit suicide. She looked in his eyes and saw the vacant look in his face. She saw the sadness and the pain from all the years of torment. She knew and she believed him but she wanted to show him tranquility at least this once.

The waves crashed up against the rocks and the salty air brushed against their noses. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. Looking up into his, he grabbed her chin and brushed his lips against hers as if questioning her, asking her if it was alright to kiss her. She gently returned the favor kissing his lips and never letting her embrace loosen. She wanted this feeling to last forever, even if forever wasn’t that long.

Now she sits here only a month later with tears welling up in her eyes. Lately the tears won’t stop. She only knew him for a short time, but in that short time he changed her life. She was so angry at him for actually going through with it even though the whole time she knew he was capable of it. She knew he was so full of pain that it was the only way he saw to end it.

So now she sits there, glancing in the mirror and reminscing of her brief encounter with an angel.