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Yet another link to a thought pattern that may be the sole reason for the total degeneration of humanity today. I'm not linking to it, though, because someone finds it funny. I, however, do not.

I'm going to say this as simple as I can, as I don't know who else besides those whom I know possess the intellect necessary to understand my opinionated (and really, that's all they are, I've made no bones about that) ramblings.

I can hate. I can hate anyone. I can, perhaps, even hate you. (and if you're my elder sister... you know I do)

I will not, however, let the world know this.

So instead, I will be pleasant. I will say hello. And I will probably never see the faces I saw today ever again in my life.

And the hate, if in fact it exists, stays safely wrapped up in my own thoughts. And no one is the wiser.

Now, to break this down even further... Everyone is entitled to their own thoughts. But when those thoughts become words, or worse, actions... and those thoughts are running in a negative to violent path, then humanity dies a little more.

Nevermind the fact it's in ICU as we speak.

There are many many many people I wish did not exist, but they do. There are many things in the world I wish were not there. I usually find I cannot do much about this, however. So I simply avoid it and try to find some small contentment in life elsewhere.

Bad days... everyone has them. It's okay to talk about being upset or angry or whatever.

I personally don't need to hear about hate or being told who should do what based on someone else's opinion (who have yet again confused opinion for fact. I want to know when these types of people have held the position of God, myself).

"One there was a child
who was taught that it's okay to think bad things
as long as you could always do good things
because this child was told
that it wasn't what went into a person that mattered
nearly as much as what came out."

And I'm feeling very violent at the moment, because I am trapped in my environment where the people downstairs keep playing their music at such levels that it disturbs me greatly, yet nobody cares, and nobody can/will do anything.

"We can sue when we move out."

When is that going to happen, I ask?

I can't, and frankly, shouldn't, have to use earplugs. It hurts my ears.

I can't shoot them, because I'll be the one who is wrong and I will be locked away and I really have no inclination to play 'house' with some 5'11' chick named Bertha or Bruna.

I can't shoot myself... because that'd hurt.

And going insane is not an option because 1: I already am, and 2: anymore and I'll be locked up soemwhere else, and they don't allow access to computers.

No, I can't find inner peace if the outside is so fucked up.

And napalm ain't cheap.

"The floor is vibrating, but it's not an earthquake."

The trees are falling by the wayside, leaving an empty, dead field. No, I'm not being literal.

"Streaming conscious can be a good way of relieving tension, if the tension weren't shaking the floor as we type."

pleasestopnowaitforgetthe'please'justfuckin'stop soIcangobacktopretendingI'msaneinsteadofimagining whatitwouldbeliketouseyourintestinestodecoratea shrinetosomesnakegodandyourbodyfluidsinamural depictingthestrugglebetweennightanddayisthattoo muchtoask?

"No, she's not calm, yet, but that took some of the edge off her stress."

SHE claims I'm the only person for her, and everyone has to have one person, and yet I can't say the same so if it's not her, who is it?

And I've been lied to before and thought someone was the one but they took and took and never gave and good gods, was it really too much asking her to be there when I had to go to my stepfather's funeral, yet I couldn't even be myself because everyone kept coming up saying to me "Oh, Erica, I'm so sorry..." but Erica wasn't even there for her own father's (yes, her dad, my stepfather) funeral and I was but nobody cared they all thought I was Erica and I didn't bother with the truth because if I replied "I'm not Erica, I'm her sister." then the next question of course is "Where's Erica? Did she come?" and all the other questions that come when you have to explain that someone is too fucked in the head to attend their father's funeral and say goodbye (solely because she's an insane bitch who's existance is a plague upon the earth as a whole) so I have to pretend to be her beause it really is easier and fuck how I'm feeling right now, since I'm obviously not me.

"Does she win the record for the world's longest run-on sentence, yet?"

Okay, that helped a little. Not everything, but some.

Next topic: What is it like to go off the deep end when I'm in a good mood?