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diary
Hello, nobody.
My name is shit. But for as long as i can remember, I've gone by diarrhea. I grew up in a slum house. My dad was killed in prison, and my mother sucked dick after dick to make ends meet. And by making ends meet, i mean spending it on crack and sucking more dick in order to get high again.
Every day before school, she'd say, "i spent your lunch money on box wine, so you don't get to eat this week. Don't forget to brush your fucking teeth. You don't want smelly breath." Says the woman whose breath smells like a dick stew. "Make sure you jerk off the dog before you leave!" Fuck, I hate chores. Fuck, i hate my stupid mother.
I'm an only child. I was supposed to have a little sister, but i pushed my mother down the stairs one night and took care of that bullshit.
She was drunk as hell, so i just blamed it on one of her jons, and she believed me. What a stupid piece of shit drug addict whore.
Anyway, if you're still reading and have made it this far, either you're curious about what this is about or you're about as sick of a fuck as i am.
Either way, i don't care. If you've stopped reading, then this isn't being read. If you're still reading, i ask in a serious manner, "what the fuck is the matter with you?"
What kind of silly willy weirdo still reads anyway? But who am i to judge? We are all pieces of shit in our own way. We all come from a piece of shit taking a shit.
Generation after generation just smells fucking worse and worse.
A little bit more about me, I have no fucking friends. I mean, I have one friend whose name is twenty seven, but he's an asshole, and I fucking hate Him. Maybe he'll come up in this dialog at some point, and then again, he might not. Who knows? I might damn done blow my fucking head off, explode it like a melon before i even start the next sentence. Life is un-fucking-predictable like that.
This is what people want. Drama. Drama and coarse language. Mature themes, so to speak. Disgusting and foul. They want to see failure. It is actually pretty disgusting what will sell and make a maggot some money. This world is sour. That's why i need to die. I need to perish. Who am i, though? And why? I feel there is no need to explain any of it. Are you still reading?
Do you have that much interest in this garbage? Maybe it's that you have a ton of free time. Either way, it's not any of my goddamn business.
My name is shit. But for as long as i can remember, I've gone by diarrhea. I grew up in a slum house. My dad was killed in prison, and my mother sucked dick after dick to make ends meet. And by making ends meet, i mean spending it on crack and sucking more dick in order to get high again.
Every day before school, she'd say, "i spent your lunch money on box wine, so you don't get to eat this week. Don't forget to brush your fucking teeth. You don't want smelly breath." Says the woman whose breath smells like a dick stew. "Make sure you jerk off the dog before you leave!" Fuck, I hate chores. Fuck, i hate my stupid mother.
I'm an only child. I was supposed to have a little sister, but i pushed my mother down the stairs one night and took care of that bullshit.
She was drunk as hell, so i just blamed it on one of her jons, and she believed me. What a stupid piece of shit drug addict whore.
Anyway, if you're still reading and have made it this far, either you're curious about what this is about or you're about as sick of a fuck as i am.
Either way, i don't care. If you've stopped reading, then this isn't being read. If you're still reading, i ask in a serious manner, "what the fuck is the matter with you?"
What kind of silly willy weirdo still reads anyway? But who am i to judge? We are all pieces of shit in our own way. We all come from a piece of shit taking a shit.
Generation after generation just smells fucking worse and worse.
A little bit more about me, I have no fucking friends. I mean, I have one friend whose name is twenty seven, but he's an asshole, and I fucking hate Him. Maybe he'll come up in this dialog at some point, and then again, he might not. Who knows? I might damn done blow my fucking head off, explode it like a melon before i even start the next sentence. Life is un-fucking-predictable like that.
This is what people want. Drama. Drama and coarse language. Mature themes, so to speak. Disgusting and foul. They want to see failure. It is actually pretty disgusting what will sell and make a maggot some money. This world is sour. That's why i need to die. I need to perish. Who am i, though? And why? I feel there is no need to explain any of it. Are you still reading?
Do you have that much interest in this garbage? Maybe it's that you have a ton of free time. Either way, it's not any of my goddamn business.
