l'amour est faux

i hate my life. but most of all, i hate other people's life. i hate it when they get successful or they have a new girlfriend or they have a new mother. sometimes i wonder, "why not me?" then i look up and i see the reason why. my ceiling's there. it's blocking the telepathic link to me and God. sometimes i wish the ceiling isn't there. but it sure is handy when it rains.

i hate people. they sweat, they stink and they eat. sometimes i wish i was back home with the martians. at least they don't sweat. nor eat. but they smell alot like rotten bungiwengers. its a delicacy up in pluto. they look like humans at first glance but when you look at it agoin, they are infact humans. so beware earthlings. the plutonians love eating humans. run to the nearest fusebox and eletrocute yourself. nothing disgusts the plutonium than cooked bungiwengers.

on a final note: waiting is the most painful thing ever.