Listen up.
I ephasize everything I'm saying here, don't make me use bold text and capslock to demonstrate.
This is my Journal.
It might be considered an outlet, propaganda, hyperbole, fiction, fabrication, whatever.
It is not a book. It is not, nor does it have to be elegant. It is not pretty. It is not nice.
It contradicts itself, bears redundancies, speaks harshly of people, and is often barely cognative. I write it about as fast as I come up with it, so it is, in effect, a braindump.
I make no promises, guarantees, offer no comforts nor condolensces. It is nothing more then a log of what I am thinking of a the current given time. It does not even entirely contain the truth; such a feat is impossible. I've spoken contradictions and my opinion has been juxtaposed throughout it. I can change my mind, and don't mind how much I actually mean what I say at the given moment.
It's purpose is none of your concern, nor is the information contained within at your free judgement or disposal.
It's none of your business. Even if you are involved. Because they are my thoughts.
It does not make me a hero. It is not flattering. I've read it from time to time, and see my ignorance, but I refuse to change it, and willingly face the consequence of bearing such ignorance. It makes me seem worse then I actually am, and by worse I mean by every redeeming factor I have. It repeats itself, has plot holes, and babbles on. Due to my laziness and ignorance, it sounds no better or different then 90% the other blogs out there, by people I consider scum. I quote mainstream songs and make no effort to seem unique, nor do I try to prove that I am. Because only I need to worry about just how different I really am. ...It'd take too long to convince your critical asses, anyway. And you will get no reward for reading it, and it has no happy ending.
You might be better off not reading it, as it shows just how ugly the human brain can be. And for you to be reading this in the first place, you might know me. ...You might be mentioned in it. And to those who are in it, I bear no apologies. To be sorry is to regret. The things I say, you don't have to like. You don't have to believe. Maybe it'd be better if you didn't. ..But then again, that goes for everyone reading this.
...I'm writing this at 7:22 AM, much like quite a bit of my journal itself, without sleeping prior, so I digress.
If you still want to read it, go ahead. But read at your own risk. Click here to enter.