Received on my MySpace account, From 19 year old Randall in Sandy, Utah.
I'm not impressed you can make a Fight Club reference...
The movie mind you, not the book.
A hammer should fall on you if you were to ACTUALLY read something.
No, what impresses me is the number of people who use these references.
And how it doesn't bother you that you are exactly what fight club points out as pathetic.
SHEEP!
BAAAAAA!
A fucking flock of snow driven fluff.
A bunch of grass grazing four legged ass sniffers.
What about you is impressive?
Do you have motive?
To be the next DAVIE MOTHER FUCKING HAVOK!
Pathetic.
or....
Pathetic?
See I look at myself as pathetic,
But I believe that is because we can never let ourselves become our own Gods.
Our own heros.
I see my life as slow, and dull, and fruitless.
But holy shit I would take mine over most of yours.
I complain, but I complain cause I work hard to be me.
I don't TRY hard you fucking Hot Topic FUCKS!
I work hard.
I do what I'm told, and exceed expectations of my simplistic life.
Wake.
Shower...if according...
Eat... if time...
Work...
Sleep...
The ideal humanistic schedule.
Why is not everyone these days running on their own clocks?
It is 11:49 PM Mountain Standard time...
What time is it in your life?
While you rest your head think about how you can better yourself.
NO HAIR DYE DOES NOT FUCKING BETTER YOURSELF.
THE PIERCINGS HAVE ALL BEEN DONE.
SURFACE.
SEPTUM.
LIP.
NECK.
TONGUE.
Why do you all have to ruin ones creative idea.
Maybe that is why I've become so protective of my world.
No one knows me.
No one can know me.
Because to understand me, you'd have to be me.
AND NO ONE IS EVEN FUCKING CLOSE.
Not that I'm anything special,
I'm a nutcase for the most part.
But writing.... is ruined by the emo-fake slasher fucks.
"Cut me crazy, leave blood trails to your graves...P.S. STARS!"
(Cause you know one lyric or poem can't exist with out the word 'stars' in it)
Reading...once not practiced by the rich nor the poor.
Now... it's all the trend kids that want to write the next 'Lullaby' or 'Perks of Being a Wallflower'.
Write 'Mein Kampf' you crazies!
It's weird.
Girls wear make-up...
I guess it's just something I wasn't meant to understand.
Yet here I sit.
Doing the exact same purpose.
Mascara.
Eyeliner.
Rouge.
Just a fucking cover up.
I try to cover my flaw of thought with babble of words.
Hang me at town square.
I am a faker.
I am not who I percieve to be.
I am not Micheal Jordan.
I am not Micheal Jackson.
I am not Micheal Moore.
I am not Queen Latifa.
I am not Bizzy Bone.
I am not Bill Nye.
I am not Dean Malinko.
I am not Shaggy 2 Dope.
I AM NOT MATTHEW PRYOR.
I am not President Bush.
Or President Hinkley.
I am not dark
I am not warm
I am not perfect
I am not flawed
I am not courageous
I am not stupid
I am not insightful
I am not a sinner
I am not a victim
I am not rested
I am not loved
I am not forgotten
I am not selfish
I am not torn
I am not starving
I am not alone
I AM RANDALL MACKENZIE WARNAS......
who's with me?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
...that's what I thought...
I am myself.
My Reply.
Talk to me in ten years when you grow up and realize individuality is a joke.
I read Fight Club by the way.
I find it funny that you mostly listen to bands that rely on image to further their career. That's not being yourself.
Pull your pants up.
I'm not impressed you can make a Fight Club reference...
The movie mind you, not the book.
A hammer should fall on you if you were to ACTUALLY read something.
No, what impresses me is the number of people who use these references.
And how it doesn't bother you that you are exactly what fight club points out as pathetic.
SHEEP!
BAAAAAA!
A fucking flock of snow driven fluff.
A bunch of grass grazing four legged ass sniffers.
What about you is impressive?
Do you have motive?
To be the next DAVIE MOTHER FUCKING HAVOK!
Pathetic.
or....
Pathetic?
See I look at myself as pathetic,
But I believe that is because we can never let ourselves become our own Gods.
Our own heros.
I see my life as slow, and dull, and fruitless.
But holy shit I would take mine over most of yours.
I complain, but I complain cause I work hard to be me.
I don't TRY hard you fucking Hot Topic FUCKS!
I work hard.
I do what I'm told, and exceed expectations of my simplistic life.
Wake.
Shower...if according...
Eat... if time...
Work...
Sleep...
The ideal humanistic schedule.
Why is not everyone these days running on their own clocks?
It is 11:49 PM Mountain Standard time...
What time is it in your life?
While you rest your head think about how you can better yourself.
NO HAIR DYE DOES NOT FUCKING BETTER YOURSELF.
THE PIERCINGS HAVE ALL BEEN DONE.
SURFACE.
SEPTUM.
LIP.
NECK.
TONGUE.
Why do you all have to ruin ones creative idea.
Maybe that is why I've become so protective of my world.
No one knows me.
No one can know me.
Because to understand me, you'd have to be me.
AND NO ONE IS EVEN FUCKING CLOSE.
Not that I'm anything special,
I'm a nutcase for the most part.
But writing.... is ruined by the emo-fake slasher fucks.
"Cut me crazy, leave blood trails to your graves...P.S. STARS!"
(Cause you know one lyric or poem can't exist with out the word 'stars' in it)
Reading...once not practiced by the rich nor the poor.
Now... it's all the trend kids that want to write the next 'Lullaby' or 'Perks of Being a Wallflower'.
Write 'Mein Kampf' you crazies!
It's weird.
Girls wear make-up...
I guess it's just something I wasn't meant to understand.
Yet here I sit.
Doing the exact same purpose.
Mascara.
Eyeliner.
Rouge.
Just a fucking cover up.
I try to cover my flaw of thought with babble of words.
Hang me at town square.
I am a faker.
I am not who I percieve to be.
I am not Micheal Jordan.
I am not Micheal Jackson.
I am not Micheal Moore.
I am not Queen Latifa.
I am not Bizzy Bone.
I am not Bill Nye.
I am not Dean Malinko.
I am not Shaggy 2 Dope.
I AM NOT MATTHEW PRYOR.
I am not President Bush.
Or President Hinkley.
I am not dark
I am not warm
I am not perfect
I am not flawed
I am not courageous
I am not stupid
I am not insightful
I am not a sinner
I am not a victim
I am not rested
I am not loved
I am not forgotten
I am not selfish
I am not torn
I am not starving
I am not alone
I AM RANDALL MACKENZIE WARNAS......
who's with me?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
...that's what I thought...
I am myself.
My Reply.
Talk to me in ten years when you grow up and realize individuality is a joke.
I read Fight Club by the way.
I find it funny that you mostly listen to bands that rely on image to further their career. That's not being yourself.
Pull your pants up.
VIEW 21 of 21 COMMENTS
belllla:
Wow!! All that hate!! Myspace is a funny animal. 
rae:
yeah tattoos are quite fuckin addictive