|My Thoughts Make Me Feel Ugly.
My false salvation found in random, incohearant, and chaotic conversations of the structural stability of a fishstick and the durability of new born children among other things with my substance free, volentarely insane partner in nothing. I like run-on sentances. He goes by many names but for now i'll call him Jack. The things Jack and I speak of truely do not matter...we speak..... when we're done nothings changed. No ones enlightend.....we speak of nothings...meaningless conversations born from even more meaningless thoughts....but these conversations keep me from blowing my f****** head off so i suppose there not as meaningless as i assume they are.....Jack doesnt like fishsticks and nor do i really but thats besides the point, i had nothing else to eat at the time ...in this case it was more about enjoying the ranch rather than the stick of fish. See Jack grew up eating fishsticks...so of corse his oppinions going to be bias in this paticular situation...be that the case or not i'd have to agree with him....they are very unstable. Jacks a bit odd but thats why he is my friend....see i've know this character as long as i care to remember. He doesnt seem to like ranch either..... As i sit here listening to Maynard's Dick performed by tool, trying to think of interesting things to write about I've suddenly come to the sad realization that I have infact thus far written nothing of any importants what so ever to anyone other than myself and Jack. Lately i've been kicking around the idea of checking myself into a mental instatution, not because i feel i'd benifit from it but more out of curiousity or perhaps the arousing idea of being analyzed and actually getting a perfessional oppinion of whats wrong with me....that and of corse theres the hope of having some rare cool mental disorder but i'm almost positive thats just a wet dream of mine.
Sorry about spelling and grammer errors...its 3:19 am and this is just a sample for a book i've been thinkin about writing.
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