YOU! Fuck YOU!

Bloody hell, you. I was never a particularly possessive partner in the past and I don't see myself as the jealous type. Maybe then I never cared as much about my partner as I do now. Maybe I know then however jealous or un-jealous I may be, the fucker's going to stray anyway. So, whatever. You're making me go against my own Terms Of Service. So yes, screw you and I am going to add 'Selective Vision' to my impressive collection of superpowers now. And right now, in my current situation where I have nothing better to do with my time, I am highly explosive.

But ah, fuck it all. Anyway, I was just going for a smoke just now where I stood at the kitchen window at 3 am, pretty much dying to have a screaming fit with someone. Bloody neighbour was smoking pot again and just the fucking smell alone is making my mouth water. One of these days I will knock on his fucking door in the middle of the night and say 'You should fucking share that shit, damn you.' And then I will go ahead and smack his head right in. So yes, I was standing at the kitchen window and I noticed something at the block across. A homeless guy was sleeping at the staircase. It's a rare sight, I must admit, people sleeping on the streets here in this country. And there he was just lying there on the floor with his head lying on the last step, trying to cover himself up with whatever pieces of clothes he had with him. It's a cold night. Even indoors, I can feel the chill to my bone. Even as I was standing there smoking, I want to finish with the fag fast so that I can shut the window and crawl back into my room. And there he was sleeping there with no choice but to remain where he is because that could possibly the sole lone spot he found where he could sleep without being chased off.

Shit, WHY am I moaning about being jobless when I have a bloody roof over my head? WHY am I moaning when I have been doing fuck all to land myself a bloody job? THIS is all my own damned doing so I don't have the fucking right to moan. Poor bugger is sleeping there freezing his arse off in the middle of the night and I have shitloads of blankies here. I even toss them onto the floor in the middle of the night because it got too stuffy or it gets snagged to my piercings. I should go across and give him some blankets. No wait. I might get raped on my way there. Ah fuck it. I'm not a particularly religious person, but tonight I shall say a prayer for him. Pray that he don't die in the cold. Pray that it don't fucking rain in the middle night. I don't need a man dying right across from where I live. Not when I was staring at him for the past ten minutes. I don't really think ghost exists but yeah we all know, shit happens. One of these days one might pop out from the walls and put the fear of god in me. Hopefully I don't die from it so that I can blog about it.

Moral of the day: Most of us lose our morals along the way. And some, like me, are fucking proud of that fact about themselves.

I won't be moaning about being jobless. At least I will moan at my own time and not post it out for the world to see. Okay, I won't promise that. I've been known to eat my own words from time to time. But whatever, anyway, I solemnly swear that I have never been up to any good but for the sake of my HardcWhore and seeing as to how I can't fucking live without him, I will bloody go and look for a fucking job. Tuesday. Because I'm going out for a movie with Huda on Monday. Huda, the only sole person who has done a bloody follow-up with me. The one who asks on a fucking daily basis how am I coping up. The one who treats like a goddamn mentally-disabled child incapable of basic daily tasks. The one who yells at me on a daily basis to get up, stop meddling with my fucking Sims and fucking get a job because if not, when the hell am I going to get my goddamned Octuplets. Because she knows me too fucking well. She knows that I need someone near to me to give me a bloody smack everyday.

The rest of you- Thanks for your one-liners. I am fine. I am not dead. I miss you too. But I'm thinking, and I have been doing quite a lot of thinking, that a good number of you can carry on with your lives and fuck all and I will be just fine with or without your texts. I'm just wondering, is there a possibility that that number of you have not contacted me again because you're afraid that me hearing from you would reduce me to a sodding bag of tears? Or is it just because I was forced to bloody resign I am a fucking bad apple and you no longer wish to be associated with me? Or is it that you are too fucking high up in your bloody honey-mooney cloud to even give a fucking toss about me? YES, I am bothered. Can you tell? YES, I have a fucking bone to pick. And it just so happens that my ego is too huge and I am not one to pick up the fucking phone and go OHHHHHH YOU GUYS WHY HAVEN'T YOU BASTARDS BEEN CALLING ME?! Ego, yes. And according to my mother, I have that in abundance and one of these days my ego will suck me in whole and spit me out into the deepest bowels of hell.

Fuck you. You and that goddamned fruitbat whom I will slap repeatedly if she so much as throws herself all over my HxcRawr.

Tranquilizers. I need them in massive quantities. And cough syrup. When the fuck will this bloody cough go away damnit?!