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State of mind: Destructive
Location: Home Gym

Why the fuck should I bother being “creatively inventful” when whatever the fuck I think of, some motherfucker has done it first. What is the fucking use of working my ass off like a human powered hearse when I fucking know that I will be off spending on things that I can't bring along when I am dead? It is sad but true, this is just another line written on this fucked up post in my pathetic and non-existence blog.
[I sit here frozen in motion listening to the sound of crickets playing in my head's built-in iPod (it plays video too but only when I close my eyes). After a long pause... ]
Hey you know what…
And so it finally happened, I woke up this morning and now I ain't worth nothing but a Cynical Fuck. You know it doesn't take much to be as cynical as me.
... to go with it and you will be a Cynical Fuck like me in no time.
[I sit here comfortably dumb thinking it must be that I missed my medication last night for feeling what I fucking feel right now.]