do you have your key?

i sit through dinners. i listen to the conversations. bunch of dinner-robot bullshit. people talk about the problems they are having with their cars, the drama in their work-places, they make reference to political situations... but they barely even skim the surface of the issues... they recognize that an issue exist and that it is a shame or that it is whatever other one-word thing that it is, they stay on sturdy ground, talk about the yankees, talk about vacations, talk about barbecue....

i must be a fucking retard.

i am the one complaining. i am the one that is dissatisfied... i am pissed, because i am probably a shit-eating emo faggot... and i just haven't seen it this whole time.

but that is only one option. more likely... the world is filled with douche bags and i just happen to be a pristine vagina. i will strike a pose and hope that the splendor is recognized.

and

when i fail i will just call, lonely as shit, and try to scum my way in to some satisfying interaction.

despite the plight i will be all right. golly, i love my time on the internet...


jerk-off or move on. fucking dipshit.