WRRRRRY! :: Flails; stops time; KNIVES ::

I haven't been on form as of late. It stems from this whole "It's almost my birthday" funk that I seem to fall into almost every year. Usually, something makes me fall into this "funk." Or someone. Last year, it was Pennie telling me that she had met someone else. Yes, she felt the need to tell me at that exact moment. The night before my fucking 23rd birthday. What impecable timing.

This year, it's a few things. Here goes:

First off, apparently, I must be a good luck charm, because, when you women have any interest in me, which eventually fizzles, you find someone else. Instantly, especially when you fuck me over. I mean, at least that's how it looks from here. It's fucked up. It's also really fucking depressing because, seriously, why should you be happy after fucking me over? Huh? Why should you just happily walk away, and I writhe in silence?

And, egh, I kinda like someone at work, but, she doesn't seem to be interested. Who saw that coming?

This ultimately goes in the direction of me thinking that there must be something wrong with me. I mean, everyone leaves, everyone gets over me, and, oh yeah, I must be fucking ugly, too. Sometimes, I wish I had a typical shit eater grin. You know the one. The one that when you see it, the first word out of your mouth is "wow, that dude looks like an asshole." And you're usually right about it. If I had this specific type of grin, women would draw specific conclusions about me and my character, and you know, fuck me, because, we all know that a woman will take an asshole over someone who's genuinely good.

Also, I've got to stop liking chicks for their personalities. I've got to start fixating on their breasts or something, because, you know, women love being told that they have "nice tits" as opposed to "wow, you're an awesome person." An awesome example of that was Cecily, who would have rather dated (wait, she actually did) a dude who only commented on her body and is practically a date rapist. That was a much better choice than say...me. But, with her, I really shouldn't feel bad. She has terrible taste. I would have probably stood a better chance if I was, per say, a tool. Yeah, she likes tools. Only tools. Yet, all she ever does is bitch and moan about how much she hates tools. Next time she says that (if I ever choose to freely IM her again), I should just tell her to "Shut up and stop fucking them, because, yeah, all you fucking date/fuck are tools." 

But, yeah, I really shouldn't let it get to me. It's not my fault most women are fucking selfish, chickenshit hypocrates.

Oh, and speaking of chickenshit hypocrates, I ran into this chick Athena today. Wait. Scratch the "ran into" part. She walked by me and "didn't recognize me" (I'm sure she recognized me) and I say "didn't recognize me" because, back in high school, where I first met her, we were pretty close. It's also safe to say that I was into her, and she into me, but, yeah, in the begining (actually, the first fucking day) of my Senior year (her Junior), she stopped talking to me, because, get this, she had gotten a (rich) boyfriend, which I had to find out from someone else. Yeah, she also stopped talking to me, almost instantly. Just me. No one else. Just me. It was really fucked up, considering how close we had gotten the year before. So, seeing her today, probably happier than a pig in shit when she doesn't deserve it, infuriated me.

It goes back to the whole "If you dick me around emotionally, you'll be happy" thing I mentioned earlier. It's fucked up and I hate it. Fucking, she doesn't deserve to be happy. At all. She's fucked up. And a chickenshit. She obviously couldn't handle being with someone like me. Well, good. Fuck her.

Ugh, I dont' want to be at work today. I just want to lock myself up at home and listen to Ion Dissonance.