YOU BASTARD!
life, i will write you from the beginning just to be persistent to my faith.
this will be english just for the sake of a special someone. so if you don’t understand it, go learn english for gods sake, which era are you living in!!!!?!!!!! christ is GONE, move on dammit.
i was walking on the railroad(1) tracks the other day with a butcher knife(2) in my hand when the thought of my former failed relationships hit me. i am just writing failed to make the sentence sound exotic and pretend that I have successful ones but the truth is that there is no other subcategoration for my past relationships, i dont keep a list divided into three saying ‘failed’, ‘not failed’ and ‘ongoing’, mainly because there is nothing to put under 2 out of 3 of the categories. there is just one. and it is the one which has all the failure in it. no offense, nothing positive.
anyway so i was going through them in my head and trying to remember the good memories just to keep myself away from attacking beautiful faced swedes with my butcher knife. it turns out i dont have good ones. BUMMER.
i got to think of my past achievements as a mistress(3) and i can tell you wholeheartedly that i felt like shit after a couple of seconds. i was with this manwhore(4) for a while this year and he was cute, kind of stupid and nice -everything that you want from a guy basically- which made me feel cuter, nicer, wittier, red hot and substantial. it went on pretty well for a month or so till i got to know that he actually had/had/been having/has a girlfriend which automatically made me second row and qualify me as a prostitute(5). great qualification i must say. allows you to do whatever the fuck that you want to do without feeling any pressure and social norm violation.
what the fuck is wrong with me, really? was the question passing my mind when i remembered of this memory lost in time and space. well you see, it is always like this. people like to fuck me short term but when it comes to long term cute girlfriendship, they get themselves an easy going girl who buys her ugly white trash jewelry from claire’s, who does not have any kind of an attitude towards life, not a particular taste or interest in anything. so maybe it is good aim that i set myself over here. most of my past relationships worked more or less the same way. those guys liked to betray their girlfriends with me, do nasty things to me and promised me that we would have a nice future together.
NICE FUTURE? fuck your mom you dipshit. i dont want a damn nice future with you at the first place. i want gold. i want cash. i want a helicopter. and you cant obviously give me none of those. why would i want a nice future with you? people are hallucinating hard time sometimes.
just to keep the blood away from my hands, this time i tried to focus on my future achievements with dicked humans, to be precise: men. but the voice over is saying ‘there will be none’ with nigger voices in canon. pure manipulation! trust me, up until then, nothing was that satisfactory. till i got to think of my future as a mistress.
first i thought about it and it seemed okay. i mean think about it. living with a guy who is rich and gets you everything you want in seconds, may it be a chanel bag or a couple of plastic surgeries. and this grandpa is with you just for the sake of women-does-everything-men-just-lies-there-and-enjoys kind of intercourse. and to be able to get it he has to overdue the viagra which will give him a heart attach and he will die. BOOM. then you get rich and buy yourself some pretty man meat with some of the cash. then some other ten plastic surgeries to get some more old men to get more money. i thought that this would be a great future and i will live happily ever after and make some writing workshop drop-out write my biography so that my memory lives happily ever after. it was so brilliant.
so i kept on walking on the good old railroad tracks, thinking about my new goal in life, picturing myself as a successful mistress. and it fitted perfectly. so perfectly that i threw my butcher knife in a nearby waste basket. and i kept on thinking. i always wanted hate mail. love mails are lame. i hope i get some of those in the future from future ex wifes and girlfriends.
you will break up soon anyway.
p.s. mox! <3
y.
