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if holden caulfield is real and is living, if he chanced upon me, he'd beat the shit out of me and kill me with his bare fists. i am a fake. i love everything and anything anglo, thinks and act like i'm anglo when i'm actually not. i worship another race because i think my own race is incompetent and impotent when i might actually be more incompetent and impotent than they are. which makes me, as holden caulfield would have put it, a phony. a first-class, gold-plated, honey-brazen phony.

:):):)

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Tuesday, December 13, 2005

.

i think it's about time i understand that i don't need the various hoo-hahs in my life. all the crazy happenings are a waste of my time. maybe it works on an individual level. you wouldn't want to have relations with a person that doesn't bring of any use to you, do you? even if he or she is your friend, right? i admit, i am self-centered. an insane fucker who wants things for only his own good. i am image-conscious, i guess, and i have the tendency to dump who i want and whenever i want. thus, the unanswered calls or messages.

but fuck, i'm a lazy shite so it might be one of those days when i just don't wanna look at my phone.

so what exactly do i want? i don't even fucking know. i'm in a state of confusion, disillusioned by a fucked-up scenario and decomposed faith-wise with the big guy (but hey, i'm working on it, alright?).

isolation helps. seeing somebody being in a much dossed-up state than you is a big bonus. it works to know that you're winning the race you are having with a sorry cunt even though it might be by just a small margin. frikkin' psychological, i tell you.

goshes.

this entry is crap.

oh well, thighs are hot. accents are hotter.

and i'll fucking eat you alive, you.


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