So there's this thing.

And it punched me in the face repeatedly. And I was in agony. And I developed a nosebleed, and part of me was afraid of dying, but the other part of me embraced death as final relief. Then I realised that what I was talking about didn't actually make any sense - and that nothing had punched me in the face, because who could hit this? So I went shopping. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Erm, life update. No, I don't want to do that. Turns out people I know read this >_>, kind of ruins the brutal honesty I could employ. Even with code-names, people would have to be morons to not realise I was talking about them; and because of who I am, none of my friends are morons. Maybe I should give everyone and everything elaborate names: adjectives can be replaced by colours, places by shapes, and names by objects. That'd be so fucking confusing. So, totes, I'm fucking red, toaster is going for an orange in square. Nope. Even I have no idea what I'm fucking talking about there. That makes no sense at all. What the fucking hell am I talking about? Don't ask me. Tell me. Anyone who can guess will win absolutely nothing, because I have nothing to give you - and even if I did, I probably wouldn't give it to you. Because you suck. You're a fucking blue triangle. Cunt. Etc..

Whatever. It's Sunday, fuck off.

I don't know what I should do with my day-time day-today in the day. I have evening plans, but days are so fucking boring and long. Maybe, idk, go down and get a coffee or something, but that's a fucking long way to go for just a coffee -- especially when I just had one. I like coffee. I dislike people who pretend to like coffee, however, and tea for that matter. I refuse, on principle, to make tea or coffee for someone who says "weak, lots of milk, 2 (or more) sugars." If you don't like the drink, have something else, don't just wank off into the cup. You terrible person. It makes me sad to think of coffee being used and abused in this way. Just in the same way that every time you get a black coffee at Starbucks they burn it - as they do with espresso. I'm not sure why; probably it's because they're so used to people ordering mochafrapachaichinos or something that they don't remember how to make coffee. Is it showing that I'm not in a very good mood? Because I'm not. And I'm not trying to hide it. I don't want to do the thing tonight, because I can't be bothered - and it will be crushing defeat and ignominy. That's a really, really fucking hard word to spell.

Oh, in lighter notes I have been having recurrent thoughts of suicide, mother has been made redundant and am feeling crushingly alone. Honest to god, if it wasn't for people around me shouting at me that it's selfish, I'd just go ahead and do it -- this time I might actually succeed. Failing at suicide attempt = lameass. Succeeding = kickass. True story.

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The time for talking is over. The time for action has begun.