User Profile

Are you definitely sure?

That's what I have to ask. When you ask for a bio. My mind isn't a pretty thing. I'd much rather sit back in a reclining chair and tell my inner soul to a psychiatrist. Disregarding my own philosophical boundries I've set for myself.

You might as well ask for a succession of words. The dried out sharpies. Empty prescription bottles. Black and white photography. The fingerprints on cans of spraypaint. That's the real story. That's how I see it.

Besides. No psyche counselor or psychologist has ever been able to piece together my stories anyway. They simply diagnose. Give drugs.

I'm here, that's about all I can say. I could rant on and on and on. But talking about ourselves is what we are ultimately brainwashed to do. Cradle to grave philosophy. Talk talk talk. No depth. Just me me me.

Screw me. Screw you. Get over the eroticies.

"They" say we are here for a purpose. But "they" just don't want to share what that is. It all ties into the phony religion crap. God this and God that. Screw God. Screw the neighbor's cat.

We have to figure out purposes on our own. Make them up as we go along. That's what I'm about. Imaginary purpose. Some of you...are led to believe your purpose. You are told what it is by some fuckwit. You buy into it. Screw the fuckwit. Screw you twice.

Most of the things I like to do. The law says I can't do. Screw them.

I'm working on a "purpose thesis" here. Don't mess it up with your religious beliefs and morals. Sure, I honestly respect that. I just don't abide by it.

Now, this girl isn't going to share her silly affair-like secrets to the internet.
Why don't YOU go read the book instead. Make yourself a purpose. Get creative. Turn off the damned television. Unhook your phone. Make something. Anything. Physical or non. You're on the path to enlightenment.

Friends (2):

Mutual Friends (1):

Also Friend of (1):