JC

grey walls are great.
i don't drink milk from the box and i don't eat baloney, this place is not for me.
pancakes aren't supposed to taste like that, and real tea is not the same color as the water i just pissed in. oh yea, and toilet seats aren't supposed to be stainless steel.
but at home now: my desk is full of stuff. the carpet is still littered with too many clothes. the bathtub still has a big ring. the pillow cases all need to be laundered since last month. i'll get around to it.
stuff is normal here at my place, but i wonder how they feel at night when they go back to a normal home? the whole way they ask their questions makes it seem as if they feel they are doing a huge service to humanity, but in fact they are only a part of the ever-growing bandaid of knives and battery acid, armed with guns and laws to hold them up, with ways to get around anything they wish. Although they don't have strong legs to stand on, they TRY to act as if they do, interrogating me as if i killed a sweet baby bunny with my hands in front of my daughter, looking at me from across the table with fire and hate. i don't have anything to tell them, those fucks, i have no clue what they are talking about as they try to put the words they want me to say in my mouth and in my head, fuck those guys and the whole act they put on. what a great line of work they have chosen: killing.
i am still dealing with a slight learning disability from my head accident, but i will not forget how bad these guys suck at life. to be a part of team Haters and Killers is way beyond a happy and healthy way to go about it all, i will not be a part of their team, no matter what. and i emphasize, no matter what. they gave the offer to let me be a part of the team, but no worries, no matter what.