Eventually, when nothing really works...

and nothing much really matters, you end up saying "FUCK YOU"... or anything with similar meaning.

Well, here’s the deal…

I’m sick and tired of so many things… and that includes people. A lot of them. So, as a start, take as a fact that I might actually hate every one of you, right now. It doesn’t mean that I don’t like you. It’s just that I’m in such a rage that I hate you all.

Anyway, I think it’s funny how I’ve been drowning myself in a sea of non-existent and existent empty pussy. On top of that (not the pussies, on top of the previous phrase), I’m tired of lying to the others and, mainly, to myself about it… it’s funny how I lie to myself, just to feel better. I lie to myself when I convince me I don’t have the guts nor the talent when, in fact, I do. And I lie to the others when I say the same thing but I always end up proving myself wrong, right in front of everyone else.

This city is shit. This whole town is fucked up. I hate my neighbors, I hate the fucking traffic, I hate the selfishness around me… I hate how selfish I can be. And I’m just a part of this whole fucking crap that even though I hate, I simply enjoy living. This town is so fucking huge and gives you so many possibilities that, in the end of the day, you did absolutely nothing to you and to your own miserable and selfish life. And there are simply no morals or scruple around. You simply swallow your painkillers so your head stop hurting… and you do that from Monday to Friday. Friday we all take our shitty pills into our sick stomach and go out to drink, get drunk and possibly and pretty fucking easily get laid. But, just as I’ve been doing lately, on my desperate search for a way to hit someone else’s back, you usually want it all to end as quickly as it started. And that's you and me trying to live and to go on with our miserable, boring and stupid life. How fun life can be, hun?!

Well, I’m not proud of myself right now. I’m not proud of what I’ve been being. To be honest, I’m actually disgusted with it. Still, I can’t say I don’t take my good photos. And, in the end of the day, all I’ve done is to make the day go by. And when the day is gone and I put my not so non-guilty head on the pillow, all I can think about is how much I Love her. Still, it doesn't really matter anymore. I just hope it all choke and die on a fucking short term.