happyboy

I hate how negative my last journal entry sounded, fuckin' depressing as hell. I usually enjoy perusing my profile page, revisting my favorite pics, looking over my favourite SG's to see if any worthy soul has managed to knock one of them from their glorified slot, but yesterday's entry has tarnished it all.

I hate my brother right now. I hate him for what he said and I hate that he made me write down what I did. I'm not a happy go lucky person, I'm not goth but those who know me would be more likely to describe me as dark if the other choice was joyful. I'm a gunslinger with a six-shooter on my hip and my bullets are hollow-tips capable of blowing a hole of alienation the size of Texas into anyone I feel needs to be put down.

Still, I don't need that shit. One of the reason's I am the way I am is that I have very little if anything to make me feel otherwise. My depression is more like elongated disappointment, I'm always trying to find something to brighten my day and become saddened when it slips my grasp or lasts for only a short while. My brother's misguided rage the other day was another chalk mark in the "Sonofabitch" column.

Got enough marks there, don't need more, don't want any more.