I'm alive for this?! Fuck me! People bitching and whining everywhere I go . . . Son of a bitch! Move on. I don't want to hear people grieving and crying. That is hardly productive. "Shut up you heartless bastard" is most likely what you'd say to me if you got the chance. If not, then you are on my team. Don't tell me what I've felt either. Don't even fucking think of saying I don't know how it feels. My best friend ever who I love died. My girlfriend whom I love-d cheated on me. I've found out horrible things about people close to me. SO SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS UNLESS YOU ARE STARVING IN CAMBODIA! These people have it bad, okay? You don't. You get to eat, you get health care, you have CHOICES. Yeah, we get handed nice bags of shit here every now and then, but get over it. That's life, and no one ever asked to be born. Suicide? Ha. If you're thinking of that route, I hope you do it. If you need convincing to keep on living, just screw it all. Donate your organs for people in the hospital who HAVEN'T given up, and give your 12 gauge a big, sloppy kiss for me. I'd like to kill you myself. You don't like who you are? DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. If you fucked up, you get to live with it. It's a live and learn process. No one cares, and that sucks, but it's not going to change. God, there's a lot of good causes you can devote your life to. Join Greenpeace, for God's sake! We'll all be dead in less than a hundred years, so how you fuck up now doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, or even in the complete span of your life. Sit around in diapers when you're 90 going "Hey Biff, remember back when I was 18 and Ellen-Sue-Ann broke up with me? Geez, I over reacted!" And unless you're famous, no one will remember anything about you 20 years after you're in the ground anyway. "So?", "big fucking deal" and "who cares?".... Three great phrases. Hell, I would rather laugh than cry, and that's what it all comes down to folks . . . a choice to be miserable or content. It's really that easy.