randomrockstar

Philthy Phil Philanthropist.

Someone tell me why its cool to be gay or bi now. It sure wasnt cool in 2000, when I was in high school. What the fuck difference does 5 years make!? If I see any more girls acting gay in public, Im gonna fucking vomit. These fuck-asses had to wait for people like me to pave the way for them, and not only are they sickeningly fake; most of them are probably the ones that wouldnt give me the time of day in high school.
That stupid cunt, Missy that sat in the back row of my senior English class, with all the cool kids, and choked lesbian under her breath whenever the teacher took attendance.
The bitchy Kayla that called me a dyke under her breath while her friends giggled every time I walked by. (Who also died in a car accident the year after graduation. I was actually glad and had to control laughter when I heard she died, and Ill admit it until the day I die. I had no sympathy whatsoever. She made me hate myself before I realized that I didnt have to, and WAY before I knew how to stop.)

Im glad that I like myself now. I sometimes wish that I could go back in time and tell my high school self that everyone there means fuck-all. I sometimes wish that I knew I would turn out like this, as if it would lessen the pain. I sometimes wish a lot of shit, but when it really comes down to it, I really wish that Id just gone psycho a lot earlier and mowed down everyone that made my life hell. But thats what revenge is for. That and high school reunions.
I wont go to mine, but Ill send an 8x10 color glossy photo with my middle finger up proud, autographed on the front and wishes for the best (death possible) and doesnt it suck that they dont know me now.

Kids can be so cruel. Its just great that I turned out the way I did. If anyone wants to know why I am this way, its cause I was traumatized by scene whores and cock fags for the greater part of my adolescence. I have no chemical fucking imbalance. Its a personality disorder, caused by being surrounded by complete shit fucks who are filled with a longing for apathy and looking for any reason to be angsty that they can cop. Your parents are filthy fucking rich! Stop buying your clothes from the Salvation Army!

I had a fantastic idea for a set. I just found out that its already been done, to a certain extent that is. I could still do it, and itd be rad and at least a little different, with different meaning, but Im just bummed that I lose my (imaginary) bonus for originality.

I dont know where the fuck this is going. I just know that I still have three more hours before Im off, and for some reason Im in the shittiest of moods. When I leave here, Im making a B-line for the beach so I can relax, because for the next 48 hours I'm a free girl. I need to write. I'm getting stressed out. I have so much to say and no way to say it. Having writers block is being artistically constipated. I think thats why Im cranky tonight. This morning. Whatever. Its been so long since Ive been creative.
It's been so long since I've had time.
I can see it now. I'll be the old lady on the hill. The one with all the CATS. I'll be the old, grouchy CAT-LADY. Come All Hallow's Eve I'll be the house all the kids avoid; "Don't up there! That's Old-Lady-E___'s house! She'll throw a CAT at you!"

And the sad thing is; I totally would. MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!

I looked him square in the eye and said, Doctor. I wanna kill. I saidI said I wanna kill. Kill. KILL!! I said I wanna kill! I meanI mean I wanna see blood and gore and guts and veins in my teeth!
And pretty soon we was both jumpin up and down and screamin, kill! Kill!