its not really a question. im gonna list theres no doubt about that. ay my fingers are numb and nearly skinless. plus they seem very bored after pressing the same keys over and over and over agin. they seem very attracted to the f4 button. har har.
oh calm there you are. where have you been dearest? why crouched before the storm you say? hah! i dont believe you you silly thing.
radiohead can always control my nerves better than any pill. how ... nice.
[watch out, more random words that i cant seem to make sense of]
i look back. i need to stop- but i do. i look back and see every time- every second... heh. i see whats really there. im my hidden grayish clouds of thought, in my timid gestures and in my twitchy eyes. i see why. and i see how. and i cant help but smile one of those sick little smiles that dont mean anything good at all. what am i talking about. whats that? i cant hear you speak up for christs sake.
[it never means much. dont worry. i turn cryptic and bitchy all the time if youve never seen a steph blog before.
its always taken with a grain of rock salt and pushed over as one of the mediocre sentimentalities. one of the cookie cutter string of words as laced by another lost child. another generation z fuck up.]
there was a dead bird hanging over the break area where the smokers scramble to every break. its neck was broken and it was caught in the chicken wire that blocks off the rafters that secure the roof that secures the weather. [huh?] it was laying there, all twisted and hlf eaten, way out of the reach of the janitors broomstick and looking very sad and very alone. not that it minds much anymore. but you know. the guy who bummed me a cig was telling me in a completely deatiled and thoroghly engrossing way about how the other birds had been tearing at it earlier and fighting over feathers. he said it was his fault. he had made them cannibals. he had fed them chicken before. [here you go, eat your cousin] i stood there choking back on his virginia slim and wondering with fascination how complex and strange people are. afterwards i went to the restroom and stared at myself for a long time. thanking unknown forces for the ability to be somewhat normal when i needed to be, and sympathetic to all things living. it was a very interesting lunch. the bird hasnt left my mind.
heh. yea about me being sympathetic. to animals and such. i killed my hamster the other night. put her in a bag and left the room. waited till she wasnt turning over and over again. crying in the bathroom telling myself over and over again i wasnt killing her, i was killing her suffering. inner ear infection. loss of equilibrium. inability to digest food. and me without 50 dollars to kill her the right and proper way. needless to say i was traumatized. she was my favorite. ive decided not to own anything that wont live for more than 3 years anymore. the pain is too much and i get way too attached. so i guess the sympathy thing. well thats questionable. i feel like shit about what i did.
by the way i am now stephanie - predator of the breaks at west. if your out smoking a cigarette and you see me coming. just turn and run.
or i will con you out of whatever you got. except fucking slims. GOD thats gross.
im done here i think. shawn is going to die in his sleep tonight.
and now to end my little rant.
-to hug people more and randomly.
-to keep on this path.
-to grow up apparently.
-to tell people to fuck off more.
-to realize that sometimes having the capacity to do something doesnt always mean you will. and procrastination is the devil.
-to read book by people with names i cant pronounce.
-to have a cup of coffee soon.
-to stop. [inside joke of a not so funny nature]
-to laugh more.