2003-11-27 - 2:58 a.m.
observation works regardless of whether the other party wants it to or not..it's like gravity.. whether you jump or don't jump.. wish or don't wish..hide or don't hide.. we all fall down.. i'm tired of stupid bitches saying "you don't know me" over and over again like oblivious fucking morons..
you know what dumb cunt
YOU don't know YOU.
I FUCKING KNOW YOU BETTER YOU'LL EVER KNOW YOU, U FUCKING MORON.
it's not a crime to "not get me".. i'm used to people equating their stupidity with my candidness.. and their guesswork with my observation..
maybe i should be more accomodating, but i am not always willing to shoulder the burden of repeating myself several times a day, every day. sometimes, many times, i just don't fucking feel like it bitch....so i write about it
interrupting bitch: I don't equate anything to you, I just ENJOY YOU
Get the fuck off my microphone, bitch: shut up .. you don't even know how to justify yourself properly. i'm not done with my speech..so shut the fuck up
and yes you are a fucking moron.. you just don't realize it yet.. you talk about me needing to be understood, needing to convey myself more clearly.. that the burden of proof, so to speak, rests on my shoulders..what the fuck do u think i have mini pamphlets for every occasion (like) in my diary for.. i fucking detail everything for you dumb bitches so i don't have to fucking repeat myself over and over because i'm a fucking walking cliffnotes for you dumb motherfuckers who feel the need to advise me of my obligation not to "judge you" based upon your fucking goofy understanding of what i'm trying to convey.. your silly suppositions are symptomatic of deeper root problems but the main problem is, you're like a fucking alcoholic. you're too fucking stupid to shut up and accept you have a problem.. you'd rather fucking give me some fucking goofy story about how you're actually perceptive and intellectual deep down under your cleverly disarming stupid bitch clark kent disguise, and i'm not understanding you..
this is one fucking deja vu marathon for me..who the fuck are you?.. you're some fucking goofy kid who fucking read a book, and now you have a fucking bottle of nitroglycerin-rich ideals, just hopping and skipping around like a dumbfuck, oblivious to the damage that the words have done to you and are about to do to you ..and more importantly, to me..
if you fucking paid attention to my motherfucking genius for 2 seconds, you'd fucking learn something, not only about the world at large, but more importantly, about yourself.. that you're a fucking repetitive tv show that's been cancelled and is in the permanent Nickelodeon phase... but that's not likely to happen because the key criminal element of your personality, your nomadic mouth, doesn't come w/a fucking OFF button.. so it's hard to hear the sound of common sense when your fucking jibber jabbering A-team save the day child psychology-a-thon is playing non-stop like some vietnam propaganda radio station..
her turn: whatever.
my turn: *cartwheels and jumping rope*
