Why I do what I do…

Good morning, good evening, good afternoon. I don’t do this to socialize. I don’t do this to make anyone happy. I don’t do this for money. I certainly don’t do it for the attention; no one reads anymore, remember? I do this so that if I have something on my mind, I can say it without having to figure out how to bowdlerize myself for other people’s G-rated lives. I write under the premise that I’m writing for myself, and that if I have an audience for when I mentally breakdown and start typing gibberish, all the better.

That said, how y’all doin’? *briked for Freakazoid reference*

I want a cup of tea. I want a cup of tea. I want a cup of tea. I want a cup of tea. I want a cup of tea. I want a cup of tea. I want a cup of tea… @_@

cut it out
Oh… Okay… :(

Seriously, I was about ready to light a candle and boil water in a soda can. When I suddenly realized that all I had was chamomile. And the strong stuff, too. Put you asleep in a sip. So, yeah, mission aborted. -_-;

Still trying to avoid the misguided path of Mom’s bf. I’m starting to think that I should have saved a few bucks in a magical place where it grows the longer you leave it there. I think I shall invent this place. I shall call it a “Bank”. Clever, huh?

I actually had some trouble checking my account last night online. Today should be better. And then getting at the money should be my only real problem. Oi, why is it so hard for me to just ask for a token? -_-;

You ever try to talk to someone for the first time? And I mean after the third grade, when it dawns on you that ‘no one likes you’. You over-analyze every word until you either come up with something you nominally like or you talk yourself right out of it. This is me all the time. Even with people I know. Everything i do feels suspect. Everyone I look at look as though they’d rather be doing anything else but talking to me, even the people that approach me first. Epically the people that approach me first.

Lady on a wheelchair scooter rolls up to me and asks me something. I’m thinking as I walk, so I’m completely out of it and ask her what she said. She had asked if I knew what sneakers were in style. I wanted to laugh nice and loud, but I instead shook my head. A confused look crossed her face, but she thanked me and rolled past me towards the innocuous ghetto shoe hut known here as Sneaker Villa.

I’m not saying that I should have known. A shoe is a shoe to me. So long as it doesn’t try to be all the colors of the freakin’ rainbow, I’m pretty happy with it. I’m saying is that I’m from some other planet and I wish I could phone home sometimes, you know?

Thank you, and have a nice day.

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