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| CHAPTER ONE – In which our first character is introduced
A girl stood, dark head hanging, in a field filled with small violet flowers, which grew profusely along the ends of their thin, spindly stalks. Her complexion contrasted sharply with her black clothing. While her head hung down, her eyes stared fixedly at a deep red flower in the midst. These were blue eyes, for her a cause of eternal anguish. Her hands, covered partially by her threadbare sleeves, were clasped tightly in front of her, to the point that blue veins cut into her deathly skin. Her lips stood out, blood red – she was the vision of a patriotic antichrist.
Her jaw began to twitch, tensing and then releasing, tensing and releasing. Then, when she could not contain it any longer, she screamed out to the flower.
“I Am Morose!”
The flower did not seem to hear her cry. She stared at it, waiting for a response. None came. She let out a sound, somewhere between a grunt and the cry of a banshee, and then started running through the violet flowers across the untouched field with reckless abandon and tearing down all stalks who tried to oppose her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her head became cupped in her hands. The sobs began to rack her body, like an epileptic at a laser show. It was as her crying began to peak that she barreled into the boy.
I'd be honored to have that link, Jean. | | |
| Dude, so I was totally cutting this morning, 'cause my mommy told me to do chores. It's so unfair, I had to fight the fucking SYSTEM!!!! Anyway, I was like vacuuming and shit like that, and then I had to go fucking pick up my cousin at the airport. He looks kinda metro-fucking-sexual now, but that's okay, he's from Boston! Fuck this. So because i had to pick him up, I didn't get to hang out with this totally sexy chick.  | | |
| Okay, so I had a completely uneventful day. I spent it taking driver's ed and trying to get that girl's screenname. But fortunately, I saved some of my resources, and I am now going to share the finale of my pictures from Saturday.
That's so ungodly, my old school would've burned that ass at the stake. But JESUS! | | |
| Well I'm back at it again, because it is the Mandate of Jean. The Mandate states that I must write in this godforsaken wasteland of teen angst, and so I must obey. Yesterday was odd. I have a party, and these two girls come. I see these girls, and I'm like "woah," 'cause they're hot. So I see these hot girls, and I've got nothing to start a conversation with. We all kinda look at each other for a few seconds, then decide to go to the liquor store around the corner. We see a kid we both know, and that starts up the conversation. Eventually we're talking almost like we're friends, pretty amazing shit if you ask me. I've seen this girl at a few other things, but we've always kinda just been polite. That's why it blew my mind when she didn't wanna leave. It gave me hope. I'm really not sure what that means, but I have no way of contacting her. I can go talk to some mutual friends and maybe get her screenname, but I'm really not sure if that's stalkerish or not. Oh well, I've included a couple pics I took of them while they were on my bed watching Thirteen.
It's henna, not real. But... Damn. | | |
| I really don't understand what people find attractive about spreading the Gospel of Whiny Emo Kid Who Likes Sharp Objects. No one really wants to read it, except to determine your weaknesses and exploit them to get you into bed. They all read the same, and your lives really are a waste of resources. Every second you are alive, you are taking up valuable resources and killing poor little animals. If you had some actual worth, I'd concede that your life is more important than the bunny rabbits and cockaroaches you are killing, but ninety-five percent of you don't. Now that I'm done ranting, I'll switch into Emo Mode©. I like, totally made money today. Like twenty bux! It was the very first time I've ever made money doing something legal! I was like, Right On! But I had to do mexican work for the money. Oh well. Because of that I think I will go cut myself now, because I am full of angst. I didn't get to talk to this totally hot babe I know the whole day. Her name is Jean and she's totally hot. I want to like invite her to my totally dank cutting party tomorrow, but I didn't get to talk to her. (Emo off: There really is a party, so if you read this before five, send a message somehow. That is to Jean exclusively. No ugly people allowed. Emo re-engaged.) So like, i came home and then cut some more. It was totally orgasmic. I think i will go jerk off about Marylin Manson and Michael Moore doing it. They are like, my total gods. Michael is so smart. He's so smart that he's, like, smarter than me. I Believe Everything He Says, and so should you, but only if your a hardcore non-conformist like me.
Back to The Cutting Board
Me, all angsty and shit. | | |
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