May 19, 2013

Forgot what I was going to call this.

It's later than I normally attempt literary bloodletting for the day, but I need to do something to take my mind off of life.  I'm not sure it worked.

I wrote something and I guess it's okay.  At least something was written.  As usual, I'm probably underestimating myself, and people would like it - but people WON'T.  FUCKING. TELL ME.  I'm just left guessing again.  I feel like I've been shanghaied and I woke up in a foreign country, where I can't tell what the hell's going on or even where I am.  The locals don't even notice me, and when they do, I don't speak the language.  I am a failed genetic experiment on an island where no one would think my screams are out of the ordinary.

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