Whatever...

I know who my friends are, and who doesn't give a shit anymore. That's fine! I don't need those people anymore anyway. I'll just eventually break down and not want to do anything with anyone. I'm just going to hide away in my basement for all hours of the day. Eventually this will completely break me and I'll have nothing left. My wife will leave me, my house will get repo-ed, my life will be wasted. Maybe I'll still have my job, because I seem to have this work ethic inside me that is ingrained in me. So maybe my house won't be repo-ed, but I'll have nothing else. Whatever... I don't care. Those people are stupid fools. They can eat worms. They don't respect my life now, then fine. I was lame before, I'm lame now... Nothing has changed. Fuck them all! They're just jealous that I actually have something to my name. That I have a career job and a house and a strong relationship. They can just grow up! Grow up or get lost! Fucking losers!

Ok, that was harsh for a comeback entry. It seems I only get inspired by negative feelings now. In fact, negative feelings seem to inspire more often than positive feelings. I guess that's why all artists are troubled. Or is it that all troubled people are artists? Chicken or egg? Hmmm.... whatever!