The Perfect Photo

I see those family photos where everyone looks perfect. The perfect fucking family. Makes me sick. Makes me even more ill when its my own damn family. Except its not my immediate family. My mother, father, sister, and I never took family photos. We had no need to pretend. We weren't perfect you could see it in the scars, the bruises, the way we spoke to each other. So why put on a mask for the world to see? But I shouldn't bash on it since 80% of American families do this. Maybe out of that 80 there are a couple of families that aren't putting on a show. Aren't trying to prove to us that they're fine and perfect.

I'll never understand the tradition.

The Twain Brother

She kept chattering. She kept looking over at me. She knew I was pissed. She knew she had gotten me good with her fucking remark. I'm slowly starting to believe the woman is truly the devil. The can out smart us at any given day. Kill you in an instant. They are sweet and kind to your face, but a true rare breed of evil on the inside. The women that show it are the women that are not smart enough to hide it. The women that let go of all their rage and reveal it are the weak less intelligent ones.
But as I was sitting watching my television shows I couldn't let go of what she said. She won't even let it go. My mind is like a twig that you slowly snap. You can see it almost break, and when it does it has a loud crack and a slow tear away.
"I don't know why you just won't fucking do it." I don't remember ever saying anything to you, bitch. That came out in a form of an answer, and I really don't think I just asked you a fucking question. My head turned around "I'm sorry did I say something to you and not know it?"
She gave me the look of a unsure reasoning of why I would even come out with that.
"Oh, so now were are going to do this again?"
"Do what? You bitch up and down the street, and me sit here having to listen to your fucking mouth?"
"Don't do it, you're the one stirring it up."
"YOUR THE ONE WITH THE FUCKING PROBLEM, BITCH."
She looked at me in utter shock. I wasn't proud of it. The least I could have done was be more creative with it, other than use BITCH. God, such a boring word now I don't know why people still get shocked by that word.

"GO FUCK YOURSELF, MIKE. I have tried to put up with your shit and I can't take it anymore!"
"Oh really? Go pack your shit then. And I'm sure you'll be back within a fucking week since no one else is going to want to fuck your fat ass."

I say too many things, but I did agree with this. I didn't say it in order to be a low blow. But for Christ sakes she weighed 289. Thats just not healthy, and I am not good looking guy either. I'd need her back in a week so I could at least get laid.

I FINALLY GOT IT.

Hahahahaha. A huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders today. Thank god I finally saw it. I finally fucking saw what was in front of me the whole time. I am happy today and I hope it lasts.

How Dare you Get Inside my Head, and Make me a Different Person.

Love-noun, verb, loved, lov·ing.
–noun

1.	a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

2.	a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.

3.	sexual passion or desire.

Love is a horrible word for me. It makes me do things I wish I hadn't done, wish I hadn't met you, wish I was blind, and also have become blind. It's eats and tears at me to the core. Rewires my mind. You do this to me on purpose, I look at you I fall to my knee's. I will do anything at will. Then I think about each gesture, I think about each word, each fucking look. I then doubt it all over again. It was obvious and will always be obvious. But when I become fond of someone I don't notice what I should. I wish I could cut this part of my brain out. I wish I could cut out my heart and serve it on a plate to a family of cannibals.

Love eats you alive. They say its a beautiful thing, but it has ruined people I know. Makes them change for the worse and they start to isolate you. I then have to get rid of every memory of you after you've beaten me alive. That means get rid of the things I do love that haven't done anything to me other than you crushing those things as well.

Love is a horrible thing to me and if you are in love with someone. Have fun ruining your life. I wish you no luck.
Love, fuck you.

Diablo

"May you have a passionate life."

My Tarot card for today. I think it fits. I seem to have this card at least 5 times a month. Why?....... should I care?


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12:45 a.m.

Take it Personally
I do love thee. I suggest this album. The Starlite Desperation is one hell of a band. Also purchase Violate a Sundae. Beautiful. I would suggest all of their albums, but I have committed a crime by only listening to a couple of songs off their other albums.

Take that mile. I hope you collapse from heat exhaustion.

I've noticed, and thought about it tonight. That my hate use to grow very very slowly. But now its gotten faster and becoming almost a plague in its growth. I know I take my hate issue on every chance I get. But its becoming unbearable.
Anyways, it grows more and more each day when I sit across the room from all of you. Listening to the same punch line, the same annoying giggle, the same fucking argument. I'm happier outside of my head when I don't have much time to think. But when I do all hell becomes captured behind my eyes and I find a place to create a world of pure violence, no innocence has even evolved.

It's a short life we have, and why spend time hating everyone? Its easier not to communicate with you.. people. Most disagree but when stuck inside a mind trying to call for help, but your tongue has been shot with a tranquilizer it's a little hard to communicate.
I see this occurring every night. I see the future of my actions, thoughts, and horrible mistakes. I repeat them until I see what it is thats wrong. I try to fight everything I can in order to ignore this horrible disease, but it takes over and it turns into a different sight. Hate is a word no one should use. It's stronger than most think. You don't know what it truly means until everything about that subject pricks at you as if you fell in to a well full of thorns.

Its a powerful feeling that you can never shake off. Its a permanent state. It's a grasp on to your thighs and neck that hold on for dear life. Hate is only the spine for evil. Evil I will never be able to explain. No one truly can. Its a snake, the ocean, its every thing that changes its form and reacts different and is unpredictable on many occasions.

Why so alive?

There's this itch I have. I scratch and scratch until I let it open. Until I let it sting. I've got a gap in between my words. My thinking has become more in a stuttering flop. A soothing mind is a rather boring downhill asshole. A complicated battled mind is a fine imported dick. People won't ever win. We want more than we have, the pleasure will never sink in fully.

If you press your hands against someones body you find a mark, it fades until its gone. I feel like that mark. You'll watch me until I leave, and never do it again cause it wasn't anything special. Pass on by this mark. When built on anger, frustration, stress, and pure hate... Its a rather boring person. Because I hate everyone, I don't find anything good about you. I could care less about you. Its a full question, its a full bullshit statement.

Well, its all bullshit. So we need to be slapped in the face and deal with it.

Where's My Devil? He was in my pocket.

I uhh I got a large quantity of hate and pain bubbling inside my head lately. I wish I could say I don't want it in there. I want to tilt my head to the side and let it drain out of my ear. But no, I want it there to keep that certain look, so no one will mess with me. I keep it crawling down my shoulder. I let it will seep down into my pores when its time to let it all unleash.
I can say the hate and pain came from my fellow co-workers. They use me to their advantage. They throw me into shit knowing I won't say no. I push myself to the edge, the breaking point. Why? I'll never know why. I like the feeling of an almost mental breakdown. I love the texture of pure insanity. You know that feeling in your palms that shoot through your fingers that make them shake. Makes your mind melt, and your tongue swell.

Its a pure substance. It's not easy to get rid off, its hard to shake. Only the strong minded know how to shake it. While the weak ones, as myself, keep it there for pity, and a reason to hate everyone. I shouldn't need a reason to dislike any of you. You all use me, you use me and throw me to the jaws of life. It's a quick chew, but its the worst pain I could feel. Especially when your as sensitive as I am. I'm letting the truth come out. I hate the feeling, I hate letting you know I'm weak and afraid. Like any other human being... I wanted to be different. I want to say I am nothing like you. But I am.. I have the same emotions, same guilt.

I feel a rise trying to conquer my body, to make me feel numb. Its working, and I'm letting it through my system. But for fuck sakes, man. When does life give a cigarette break? Let that steam roll off your back? Let your muscles become free from all prison of restraint and anger?

Loneliness has become a comfort. Knowing your alone in your ventures towards either failure or success. To know you won't have someone bring you back down in to that sweat hog pin you once got free from. I can do things for myself, which don't seem to be working, don't seem to come through. But not to worry about anything or anyone else's problems. You find loneliness becomes a best friend, a growth on your back that won't seem to go away, but you don't mind it. Cause you don't have to see it.. So there's no problem. The only downfall is who do I run to when it all breaks down? I've got you, but you always want more. Don't we?