The Good Will Out.

Rub your temples. Just rub your temples and the pain of everyone's absolute lunacy will evaporate with the banging headache that's consuming your swelling brain.

Try not to look at the light.

Who knows If I'm really fucked up? I wish I had a crystal ball to tell me everything I ever needed to know about myself.

I seem to meet a world of unqualified therapists that have excellent answers for all of my disfiguring flaws.

Fuck.

Shut up already.

I can easily understand why so many people seem confused about their lives. It's not only the, "Shit, I'm twenty-two now and out of college and now I have to figure out what to do with the rest of my life." It's also the, "Shit. How could people think that of me? AM I REALLY AS AWFUL AS THEY SAY I AM?"

Answer: Of course I'm not.

I'm sorry for fucking up.

I have no idea how many times I'm going to have to say that before all the people I've morbidly offended get over themselves. I'm so bored with having people make me out to be a massive pyscho because I acted human in situations that I didn't understand, or didn't know how to cope with.
I'm so tired of being accused of being a monster for making mistakes that I couldn't help but make and I'm so sick of uttering, "I'm sorry," to make up for everyone else's inability to forgive. If your problem with me is so fucking massive, don't talk to me. Don't look at me. Ignore me. Get yourself out of the line of fire and save yourself from a world of pain and misery. If I'm that much of a complete bitch, FORGET ME.

I have nothing to prove anymore. I have nothing to gain from chasing the tail of my friend's anger through hours of conversations that goes absolutely nowhere.This is who I am. I've always been this way. And if you can't see the good in me, then leave me alone because I'm not going to try to convince you that it's there.