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The Journal that was too cool for a title.
It's too cool for a title
Think of your own ******** title.
I can't fuking sleep and I'm ******** annoyed.

Art and Janis are being ******** assholes. I'm sick to ******** death of school. I'm never feeling well, be it mentally, or physically, but I guess that doesn't matter. I sure as hell don't give a damn.

Right now I'm pissed, tired, and lonely. But I don't want company. I just want to be ******** better. I'm always paranoid about some s**t or another. I hate being like that. I'm sick of being paranoid, not being able to move on, always dwelling on trivial s**t. All that bullshit. I can't even be there for my friends, and for some reason they still trust me. I doubt I'm the kind of person to trust. Whatever.

But hey, I got a nice carton of cigs, so I should manage. Nothing like a few more nails in the coffin, eh? Could use a drink too, but meh. I'd kill for some Madd Dog, or Holland Mist right now.

I'm so ******** tired right now, but I can't get to sleep and I don't know why. I hate that.

Oh well, guess I can't type about s**t that pisses me off forever. Peace.

Tunage
Alkaline Trio - Back to hell





 
 
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