Here's my current rant, pretty much the reason I took the time to make this site as it won't fit on my profile. It's inanely boring and the only redeeming quality is that it sounds good. Oh well, here it is. The disgusting squish of the dewey grass beneath my feet serves only to magnify my pulsing irritation towards the world as I trudge quietly home. I can already feel the moisture seeping through my cheap canvas sneakers, a bonus to tonight I really didn't need. I smell of smoke and alcohol, though I haven't sinned. Not tonight. The urges run through my mind, sure, I simply choose not to act on them. And why? What is it about all these "bad" things that holds me back all the time? Do I really care whether or not I get lung cancer and die young? It sounds more like something I'd welcome with open arms. And it's not like the temporary loss of control I'd experience at the hand of consuming alcohol is going to make anyone think I'm any more of a loser than I already appear to seem. Alas, I still wear my convictions somberly on my sleeve, though I know it impresses no one, myself included. I just stand back and watch the strangers I call friends enjoy themselves on levels I'm not sure I could ever understand while I stand quietly by and try my hardest to pretend I didn't wish I was dead. Regret can be one of the most painful experiences a human can endure. I should know. I live with regret every day. People I shouldn't have pissed off. People I should have. Things I shouldn't have said, or that I should have yet still wish I hadn't. People I didn't tell I loved and people I need to tell I love soon or else I will miss my window of opportunity, chances are it won't happen anyways. Hell, my talking about it to all of you right now is probably just going to ruin what would normally have been an entertaining visit to a website that at least attempts (poorly) to entertain every now and then, and is something I already regret writing even as I type it. I'm going to type it anyhow, because I honestly don't feel that I could give you anything more productive to read right now than an embarassing description of how much a student can actually rue his existance. Is it regret? Lonliness? Contempt for the entire human race? I couldn't really tell you. But I can say, for sure, that I envy those with the ability to drown their sorrow in alcohol or material things. No amount of JD could perk me up, and a white picket fence and an SUV in the driveway isn't going to improve anything at this point. I'll just sit here in the dark in front of my computer, the sounds of someone half my age who has never really experienced the anguish they scream about blasting through my headphones at volumes that make shooting heroin look healthy, and I will do my best to forget I ever wrote this in the first place. My apologies go out to everyone who was relentlessly bored enough to read this far. I'll try harder in the future to sound witty and happy enough to be someone you can pretend you'd ever really want as a friend. go here these guys are genius
CPR for the punk scene (use only in Southlake, in other places the following may not apply)
Other resusitating links
