It all really is pointless.
Living, I mean.
But don't get me wrong, not right off the bat. Living is not such a terrible thing. Like riding a roller coaster: it's fun, it has its up and its downs, it makes you a little sick at times, and it can get scary. And, every once in a while, shit breaks down and you're fucked. Or you die. But the ride evetually ends. For everyone.
Oh, my fucking God. How fucking cliche was that?!
I have an excuse, I swear. I just can't quiet remember what it is.
Ah, yes, back to whatever it was I was saying.
Life, living, it's all pointless. I mean, come on. In today's modern American/Capitalist world. what is the point, really? The world is becomming Americanized, or British-ized, or whatever. You have to have money to do anything, and our lives are spent trying to get this money. Styles change at least once a year, and a new fad tells you exactly how to act or dress or who to date and who to fuck. Hell, they tell you that you need to fuck, or else there is something wrong with you.
"Where you molested as a child?" "Do you hate yourself?" "Do you have a masturbation problem?"
There really is no perfect woman. There is no perfect man. There is no perfect family. There is not a single perfect thing in this world. Everything is flawed, everything is trashed. Everything is meant for the furnace.
It's the flaws that make this world so fucking great. I love you because you're flawed. I love you even more because you admit to it. I'd die for you because you love my flaws. That makes you perfect.
But not really. It's just an illusion.
I no longer have the slightest clue as to what I'm sayng or what I'm trying to say.
I hate you all and I love you all.
We are all flawed and that makes us perfect.
There is not point in living in a world that requires you to be a certain way.
There is no point in living if you're always looking for the perfect whatever.
Lower your standards a little.
You'll be surprised at the kind of quality you'll start to recieve.
You'll soon be fucking Marilyn Fucking Monroe.
At least, that's how she'll seem after the Crack whore you were trying to get with.
Whatever.
We're all fucked.
Why bother?
Living, I mean.
But don't get me wrong, not right off the bat. Living is not such a terrible thing. Like riding a roller coaster: it's fun, it has its up and its downs, it makes you a little sick at times, and it can get scary. And, every once in a while, shit breaks down and you're fucked. Or you die. But the ride evetually ends. For everyone.
Oh, my fucking God. How fucking cliche was that?!
I have an excuse, I swear. I just can't quiet remember what it is.
Ah, yes, back to whatever it was I was saying.
Life, living, it's all pointless. I mean, come on. In today's modern American/Capitalist world. what is the point, really? The world is becomming Americanized, or British-ized, or whatever. You have to have money to do anything, and our lives are spent trying to get this money. Styles change at least once a year, and a new fad tells you exactly how to act or dress or who to date and who to fuck. Hell, they tell you that you need to fuck, or else there is something wrong with you.
"Where you molested as a child?" "Do you hate yourself?" "Do you have a masturbation problem?"
There really is no perfect woman. There is no perfect man. There is no perfect family. There is not a single perfect thing in this world. Everything is flawed, everything is trashed. Everything is meant for the furnace.
It's the flaws that make this world so fucking great. I love you because you're flawed. I love you even more because you admit to it. I'd die for you because you love my flaws. That makes you perfect.
But not really. It's just an illusion.
I no longer have the slightest clue as to what I'm sayng or what I'm trying to say.
I hate you all and I love you all.
We are all flawed and that makes us perfect.
There is not point in living in a world that requires you to be a certain way.
There is no point in living if you're always looking for the perfect whatever.
Lower your standards a little.
You'll be surprised at the kind of quality you'll start to recieve.
You'll soon be fucking Marilyn Fucking Monroe.
At least, that's how she'll seem after the Crack whore you were trying to get with.
Whatever.
We're all fucked.
Why bother?