Why I didn't sleep

Have you ever had somebody completely crazy yelling at you and you had no way to calm them down, make them stop, or get away from them?
She wasn’t exactly yelling at me. I was neither the source nor the contributor to her anger, just the way she let it out it seemed. She was venting at me, venting to somebody who was completely passive and had to listen to her and couldn’t do anything about it no matter what she said. There was fire in her words, rage, pure evil. Venom dripping from every syllable her forked tongue produced and I was a witness to it all. I was very uncomfortable.
Pain, she said. She spoke of pain. Pain inflicted on her by others that she had no part in. Pain she did not bring upon herself in any way. She spoke of injustices that had befallen on her, many of them and unspeakably horrible ones at that. I have no way to measure the feelings that she felt at the time or the pain that she went through and its not my place to judge but the way she spoke of it made me so jumpy, so nervous. I’m sure my discomfort came through in my voice, although I didn’t speak much. I just let a few words squeak out. “Oh god, that’s terrible.” I’d hear myself say. “You’re so strong. I’m so sorry that happened to you.” I heard myself agree with her even though I wasn’t quite sure what I was agreeing with, it just seemed as if it was all I could do to get her rage to fizzle out a little.
She talked about violence. Pain, she said. Pain is not what I deserve, I cannot deal with any more pain. I want others to feel pain, she said. I want to make them hurt worse then I have, physically and mentally, I will do all I can to make them pay. Revenge, she said. She was vengeful. If the opportunity arises, they will pay, I will have my revenge. Her eyes looked smaller then normal and dark but full of fire at the same time. They were shaped in such a way that they were pointed at both ends, like darts. Like daggers. She talked of torture, of murder. She talked of blood, gore, severed limbs, slit skin and punctured flesh.
She spoke of hellfire and warfare all reigning down on the person to have contributed to her mighty suffering. I nodded my head up and down.
I would feel no remorse, she said. Hate, I deserve to hate. I am justified in the way I feel. I believe that was the only part that I agreed with. One is always justified in one’s feelings and talking about them is wonderful. I have none of the answers and if I judge, I do it unfairly. I sin, I am as bad as many if not worse than most. But the way she spoke of it, of her Pain, of her Hate, of the wounded, limping end she lusted for so much, I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t do anything about it at the time, what was there for me to do? I didn’t want to make her feel worse. I didn’t want to upset her in any way. I just sat there. I rolled over on my belly like a dog. I had no idea that this was inside of her but she showed me all of it. She pulled out the ugliest, rotten, blackened hidden away parts of her being. She tugged them out of herself like a weed, bringing up the roots to be sure she didn’t miss anything, and smacked me with them over and over again.
I did not sleep well last night after this event took place. Tossing and turning on my side trying to quiet the visions of Hate, Pain, and Hellfire. I felt weak but who wouldn’t? What could I have done? I closed my eyes and held my arms straight down at my sides, forcing myself into a restless sleep.
I remember that after she had finished speaking and her breathing seemed to become steady more steady, I asked her how she felt. She said good. She had let everything out. I was shaking but it was dark and although I could sense all of her movements and tensions, I don’t think she noticed. Maybe this will be good for her. Although clearly it wasn’t good for me, I think she is worth the sacrifice. Unstable as though she may be, I like her. She’s interesting. If this happens again though, perhaps I’ll try to only be around her when I am stoned.

Oh god.

My mom found my condoms.

I was sitting on my bed talking to a boy when my mom picked my lock, walked in, bothered me about something trivial, didn't leave when I asked her to, didn't leave after I told her she makes me unhappy, called me awkward in front of him, didn't notice that I wasn't laughing at her stupid jokes because she was laughing too hard at them by herself, and noticed the box of ultra-thins on the floor.

"What's this?" she said.

"I'm nearly a legal adult. Go away." I said.

She looked shocked. He held onto my arms to calm me down. I looked my mom in the eyes and saw shock. I saw fear. I saw disappointment. I didn't look away. I'm not afraid of you, I tried to say with my eyes. I'm smart enough to make my own decisions. I'm not a baby anymore, my eyes screamed at her. Go away. Let me think for myself. Quit shaming me for something that doesn't really matter. It's none of your fucking business mom, my eyes shouted at her. Leave leave leave leave leave.

She threw her arms up and walked out of my room, shutting the door behind her.

What the hell do I do now, I keep asking myself. I don't want to talk to her about this. I don't want my mother to shame me for having sex. I don't want to listen to her lecture me about how big of a deal it is and how it will ruin my life. Sex is not that big of a deal. She's wrong. Being a virgin doesn't make you a golden moral beacon. Being sexually innocent makes you sheltered, not a better person.

I'm not a bad daughter. I'm a bit lazy, sure, I could keep my room cleaner, do the dishes more often without being asked. I could try harder in school, I could talk back to her less and I could give her the benefit of the doubt when she says something that makes my insides rot at the corners. I'm a bitch sometimes and I fight with her because we live together and piss each other off. But I'm not a bad daughter. I do what I'm told. I listen to her talk about her problems because she has no one else to tell. I work hard at my relationship with her even though she annoys the shit out of me most of the time.

She means well. She loves me. She doesn't want me to get hurt. She means well when she tells me to stop acting like a whore. I don't listen to her but I know that she means well. That's what I keep telling myself. My mother is biased. She associates sex with corruption. She thinks it's bad. I'm 17. I used a condom. I tried to talk her into getting me birth control but she would not budge. I'll try again. She'll probably let me. I don't know if she loves me more than she loves her morals but I hope she loves me enough to take me to a doctor and help me to be safe.

I don't want to think about what will happen if I get pregnant. My mom won't help me. Maybe I won't even tell her. I'll find somebody else to. That would kill me inside. I wish I could trust her. I wish I could talk to her about these things. Or about anything really. She isn't a good listener. She doesn't care. She remembers to take me to therapy sometimes though. When I seem like I really need it.

Oh god. I need it now. What if I'm pregnant? What if the condom broke without us noticing? What if I have a disease now? I told her I wanted to see a doctor two weeks before it happened. Then a week before it happened. Then a few days before it happened. She didn't care enough to. She didn't think it was necessary. What if I'm in trouble now? I am so fucking scared. I need an STD test, a pregnancy test, maybe an abortion or medication, and definitely the fucking birth control shot. And weekly therapy. I need her to care enough about me to help me. She doesn't though. I love her. I forgive her. It's okay mom. I know it's not your fault. Your life has been hard and you've been strong enough to push through. I need you now but you can't help me. I love you anyway though mom. You'll never read this. I'll try to get what I need without your help. I'm sorry I couldn't wait another year to lose my virginity but it just happened. And I was scared and now I'm fucking terrified but I don't regret it.

Gum

Gum is horrible for your digestive system.

I read that somewhere. I forget where. It's horrible for your digestive system because it makes your stomach produce excess acid and it makes your jaw wear out quickly. That's why some old people can't chew at all. Because they wore their jaws out. So they eat soup and baby food and other such mush and they try to gum it but sometimes they miss and it dribbles down their chins, staining the front of their kitten sweaters and their worn flannels and their white T-shirts, yellowing at the collar and under the arms.

I stopped chewing gum. I don't want to get old. I don't want to be worn out. I don't want my body to be damaged to the point where I can't fix it. That's why I wear sunscreen everyday and have no color in my skin. No cancer, no wrinkles. That's why I skip out on junk and processed foods and try to walk around and exercise a bit. No stomach cancer, no toxins ingested, no muscle atrophy.

I smoke weed. I worry. I don't worry about getting caught smoking weed or smelling like it. At least not at first. I worry because I feel the smoke in my lungs. I remember my very first inhale. I nearly cried. As the smoke came in, I swore I almost felt some innocence leaving. It hurt. I coughed. Hacking up mucus and shaking the cobwebs out of my throat. I felt a pain in the lining of my lungs, they felt tainted. Every time I smoke up I remember this and I still cough a little. I don't smoke up that much. It's not worth it.

I drunk sometimes. My friends are nerds. I do it alone, in my house. Safe, quiet. Then I just loll about, content with myself. Mostly. Liver damage comes to mind. If I ruin my liver drinking, no way will I be getting a new one from a donor. The donated liver will go to some adorable little girl with a deficiency and I will die on the waiting list like the worthless lush society thinks I am. Hah. I don't want to die. I stop after two beers.

Everything I put in my body has stuff in it that shouldn't be there. Pesticides. Toxins. Dye. Awful things. Things that could build up and hurt me. I can't really avoid it but I worry anyway. Sometimes I forget to eat. Sometimes I just eat fruit. I don't want to die.

My jaw. I like my jaw. I like solid food. I don't want my jaw to wear out. I don't want my lip to droop and lightly dribble food down my front, simultaneously dribbling acid on the fibers of my dignity. This won't happen now. I'm young. I should be enjoying myself. I don't want to be old with no careless youth to reflect upon but more then that, I don't want to be old ever. Ever ever.

So now I have gum in my mouth. I remember the day I bought this gum. I walked to an abandoned building with a boy, smearing the sunscreen I had in my bag on my exposed skin as I walked beside him. We took off our clothes and forgot about the rest of the world for a while. While his fingers were inside of me, I couldn't help but think. Will I be the same as I was before this? Physically, I was worried about. Mentally, I couldn't give less of a fuck. We fooled around for a while and then he asked me if it was okay for him to stick it in. I said oh. You're ready to be a father? He knew that meant no. I suggested we buy some condoms. He said he would feel guilty because I would have to pay for them, his wallet was at home but okay. I fastened my bra, hiked up my shorts, and walked to Rite-Aid with him, putting more sunscreen on my shoulders, the back of my arms, and my nose as I went.

He didn't want to go in with me. It's embarrassing. he said. Don't be silly. I said. Come in with me. He sighed but he never likes coming across as a pussy. Stumbling around a Rite-Aid looking for the condoms with a boy who is draped in shame is a silly experience. I felt unclean but not in a way that I felt like I couldn't fix. Go home and take a bath and I'd be daisy fresh again. Silly is the only word I can find to describe it. I wasn't mad that it wasn't perfect, I was just mellowed out among the absurdity.

I got ribbed condoms and walked to the cashier. I'll wait outside, he said and I didn't argue with him one bit. Are you thirsty? I asked. Do you like Mountain Dew? No. he said. Don't buy me anything. Alright, whatever. I said and I grabbed one for myself.

I went to pay.

Gum. Sixty nine cents. What the hell, I thought as I looked at the condoms. I'm already taking a pretty big risk right now. I put the gum, the box of condoms, and the Mountain Dew on the counter and fumble around in my purse for my twenty.

I fumble, fumble, fumble; only come across a five. "Oh. I'm so sorry." I say to the cashier. "I don't have as much money as I thought I did." She nods politely. She doesn't seem to mind. I shrug and go back to the condoms, slowly, dragging my feet a bit. Do I really want to do this? What are the risks? What if I get pregnant? What if I get cysts? I don't like him. I like messing around with him, sure, and he's a very nice boy but he doesn't hold my attention all that much. I don't have much in common with him. I imagine referring to him as my boyfriend. Introducing him to my friends. Talking to him about my problems. It feels off. I get to the condoms and look at the prices. The cheapest ones are five ninety nine. I pick up the box. No. I put it back and go up to the cashier. I put a Mountain Dew, some gum, and two candy bars on the counter. I think I have enough this time, I say. "Would you like to sign up for a rewards card?" Her voice is louder and realer than anything I have felt in a long time. "Yes."

I guess I was taking a bit too long because as I was filling it out the boy walks in. "I didn't have enough to get them." I say. My words feel realer than before. I feel realer than before. "But she talked me into signing up for this......thing. I got free candy. I can't say no." He doesn't seem too upset. He feels the same way about me as I do about him, boner aside. I finish signing it and swig some toxin and dye filled dew and pop some sticks of gum in my mouth. I offer him everything. He declines all but gum.

I found the pack today. I don't care much. I won't chew gum all the time but I plan to finish this pack. When I am old and can't chew, maybe I'll look back on this. Maybe I won't give a shit anymore. Maybe I'll die before then. I don't know. I don't know anything at all to be honest.

Written with self-conciousness

All day long, if I don't have anything that I have to do or any distractions that are really hard to ignore, I visualize.
I think about food and sex all day. Not together, I'm not that adventurous, but those are pretty much it. In the mornings, I think about sleep. Sometimes I worry about the shit that I just did/have yet to do or judge the people around me. What I mean is, I don't sit in class all day just mindfucking myself with the joys of learning, even when I get a few minutes to think or read. No grand epiphanies while pouring over Dostoevsky. No composure gained from becoming alligned with the beauty of the universe by meditation. No deep, tremendous reverberations of understanding garnered while alone with my own thoughts. I just think about the feelings. The tastes. The endorphins exploding inside of me. The satisfaction being fulfilled. My bodily needs are my primary concern. All day long, I think about food, sleep, and sex.
I thought about my perfect day. I did for a while and I realized these were the three key elements in it. I would wake up, stay in bed until I could no longer deal with myself, take to the mirror and dab paint on my face as I pleased and then I would cook for a bit. I wouldn't make anything elaborate, I'm not that much of a glutton. Probably just pie. Fucking pie. God, there's no creation by man that gives me more pure enjoyment. Except for cupcakes......god, you know what, I'd just make fucking baked goods then eat them almost until I hated myself.
After I eat for too long, sleep for too long, or even just go too long without doing anything productive, I get this huge wave of self-loathing that doesn't really go away until I do something that seems useful. Its best if its something I don't enjoy that much. Only then do I feel self-worth. But this is a perfect day. Its no time for my silly little, fucked up masochism habit. After I shoved my stupid little chubby whore baked goods in my stupid little chubby whore face, I'd get an oppourtunity to have sex with somebody.
I can't really describe sex, I've never had it and I don't like to read erotica or watch porn. I know the dynamics of it I guess. I just lie there and moan, right? Hah. Hah. Hah.
But really, I don't know how to describe it, I just know that I want it. All the fucking time. I guess I know what sort of person I want it with. Skinny/muscular. Intellegent but not necessarily booky. Nice eyes, nice lips. Social but reserved. Kind of punk rawk/hipstery sort. Fairly attractive genitalia I'd willingly put my face up against. Wants to fuck me and tells me that they want to fuck me. That would be lovely. Just take all of the energy my body's been holding in and slam it against them over and over again. Its nothing but a biological need. If you go too long without it when you want it, you become physically worse off. To fuck is nothing beautiful. Its ugly if anything. Its a mishmash of genitalia rather then a beautiful intwinement of souls, isn't it? Sure there's emotions that come with it (damn hormones) but like......fuck them. No emotions on my perfect day.
After that, I think I'd just stop moving. I wouldn't exactly pass out, my mind and body would just agree to chill and not do anything anymore. Almost as much as I like being asleep, I like being dormant. That feeling you get when you're at peace, pretty much awake but just lying around. The physical warmth is delicious, its really beyond anything else for me. My perfect day would have that, maybe some cuddling, then sleep.
Sleeping itself is one of my fucking favorite things, not because I am necessarily lazy (although I guess I am if I can't find anything to do), but because when I'm sleeping, thats the only time I really forget about everything thats bothering me. I can't be worried or afraid or sad or hateful or right or wrong when I'm asleep. I'm just gone. The rest of the world isn't just put on hold when I'm asleep, it straight up doesn't fucking exist. Maybe there is some sort of spirit realm and you visit it to a very tiny extent when you're asleep. Thats always how I'd hope the afterlife would be. Just an idyllic sense of peace and total satisfaction in mind and body.

I wonder what my perfect day would be like if I didn't have any urges. Probably something about my death.

Written with self-awareness

I am so fucking lucky I can't even stand it sometimes.
Fucking Japan. If there were no natural disasters, the world would physically cave in on itself or something but they're just....beyond unbelievable to me. Thinking selfishly (like I usually do), I guess I try to live every moment to the fullest. The worst thing that could ever happen to me would be an early death. I kind of hope there's some greater peace after this life but I have to doubt it. This is all there is. This moment, this now, this little second, this fucking shit particle on the infiniteness of eternity is dwindling, slipping away, and I am ruining myself if I take it for granted. For something so random, so completely and totally unpredictable to end my life forever without me not having ever really lived it....thats me doing myself the biggest injustice ever.
I could be dead. Not even from an earthquake or a hurricane. I could get hit by a car next time I go for a walk. I could get tuburculosis from the next person I kiss. I could provoke somebody to murder me next time I get into an argument. I could die doing the stupidest shit. How many people in Japan were on the toilet when the earthquake hit? or the tsunami? Chances are there are a bunch of people who not only were shitting but are now dead. And their last moments were spent defecating.
Life has no meaning, does it? What is there, really? There is no logical proof for a god, any sort of supernatural interference, any sort of higher power. We as beings feel pain and beauty but what can we really make of it? There is nothing other then you. You are your own god and your life's meaning is to garner as much enjoyment and pleasure as you can from it.

I'm glad I'm not dead.
I'm sending money to Japan.
I'm gonna get so fucking wasted that I cannot remember my own name.

Written with absolutely no self-awareness at all

I'm really, really sad and I don't know why.
Actually, I guess I sort of do. Something reminded me of the passage of time. I think it was the weather. I saw the sky get a little bluer and the snow start to melt and I thought SHIT. WHERE WAS I LAST YEAR WHEN THIS STARTED TO HAPPEN?

I was here. I was the exact same place I am now. I keep thinking about it and the more I do, the more I realize how little has changed. The same things make me unhappy. I have the same problems. I've made pretty much no progress in....anything. No new relationships. No new passions. No new reasons to live. No new happiness at all. I'm the exact same fucking person I was a year ago and I was bored and fed up with it then and I'm still that way now.

I've tried. I've forced myself into things. I've taken risks. I've gotten sad over it. I've forgotten about it for a while then come back to it again and cried some fucking more. I don't know what I even want anymore. Its silly I guess. As much as I think of how nothing has changed, nothing really bad has happened. Its just been a lukewarm fucking year. Just a lukewarm, ugly little shitbucket of a fucking year for me.

Thinking back, I've always had the same goal; self improvement. Chip away at all the qualities that make me loath myself. Get better. Stop sucking so fucking much. I'm exactly the fucking same though. Just a year of me trying and trying to make something happen that never, ever did. I'll be 17 in a month. I think I'll be glad that its over.

Me and my boobs.

boo boo (CrappyGuitar18) is available

boo boo: is it still 19 over 15?
boo boo: yeah
boo boo: i read everything on my bros iphone


TumorAttitude: what?
TumorAttitude: huh?


boo boo: the thread


TumorAttitude: thoughts?


boo boo: im about to make a big bloated comment and i want you to post it there


TumorAttitude: Okay.


TumorAttitude: boobs?


boo boo: hold on


boo boo: almost done


boo boo: Guys, I've taken a gander of this thread on my brothers iphone, I read everything. For one, I didn't even know banning me for a year was a group decision, I thought that was just Satchmo going on an ego trip. Yes I'm starting to miss the site, in spite of all the negative things I have to say about it, there are people who make it worthwhile and i miss talking to them, I miss some of the interesting debates that were going on. However it's not like I can't live without this site, I do have things going on in my life outside of the internet you know, I'm taking a GED test this month, I've been talking to my mom about what kind of college I want to go to. Yeah sure another 6 and a half months isnt gonna kill me, but it isn't gonna make that much of a difference, it isn't gonna change my perspective, and you all know it. I said the mods were a bunch of lazy fucks, yet they're pretty devoted to keeping me away for as long as possible, so maybe I didn't give them enough credit, however I still think they are mostly elitist, incompetent, biased dicks. That is an opinion that will never change, I'm not sugercoating that one bit. But, I'm willing to swallow my pride and try to adapt to the rules, especially knowing now that the reputations (possibly even the membership) of my supporters are at stake and one more fuck up could end the few friendships I have on this website, that doesn't mean I'm willing to kiss the asses of people I despise (GuitarBizarre can still eat a fat dick), but I can at least try to focus my attention where such people don't dwell. I don't see why you can't just ban me from the shoutbox or something which is almost always where I started controversy (save the whole banning everybody when i was a mod because of a stupid argument about feminism thing). Do I have an issue with self control? To an extent yes. But my life has gone through some unexpected changes lately, it's getting progressively less shittier and it seems like I might actually have a future after all. So if you guys feel THAT strongly about me doing the extra time, that's fine, I won't lose sleep over it. I just don't see the f*cking point, if you really think I'm just gonna get banned again and that I have nothing to contribute to the site you might as well permaban me instead of pretending like you're being fair to me.
boo boo: anyway, is big3 on an ego trip or what?


boo boo: seriously threatening to ban everybody who voted yes, that's fucking ridiculous
boo boo: do they really think im THAT much of a problem?
boo boo: he has to resort to calling everyone on my side a clown
boo boo: jeez
boo boo: that one guy had a point, it's not like a constantly trolled the forum
boo boo: in fact i never really trolled the forum
boo boo: i went off on people


TumorAttitude: I'd still talk to you if they banned me.
TumorAttitude: I changed my sig encouraging then to ban me.


TumorAttitude: GB is a dick.


boo boo: its not like that was everyone one of my posts, i dont see why a little post deleting is so difficult, thats basically how they dealt with CC for the longest time
boo boo: dont encourage them to ban you
boo boo: thats stupid
boo boo: and yes he is


TumorAttitude: why not


boo boo: if you can, copy any direct responses to my comment for me


TumorAttitude: okay.


boo boo: i need you to be my mediator lol


TumorAttitude: no responses yet


boo boo: bbl its lightning

boo boo (CrappyGuitar18) is available

boo boo: any yet?


TumorAttitude: jansoon bolded the last sentence and addded
TumorAttitude: Request granted boobs. Go live your life.


boo boo: wow
boo boo: ok
boo boo: now that there is nothing at stake for me anymore
boo boo: tell them this


boo boo: Janzoon is a power abusing twat who is so up his own asshole he thinks he can make this decision on his own without the consent of other forum members. This has been a very polarizing thread, I know I'm not the greatest guy. But I deserve more that such a brief smug response from a lazy mod who never contributes anything other than brief comments of stuckuphisownassishness.
boo boo: fuck you Janzoon


TumorAttitude: alrighty.
TumorAttitude: You're not helping your cause by insulting anybody who disagrees with you.
TumorAttitude: Should I post it anyway?


boo boo: is that what he said?


TumorAttitude: yes.
TumorAttitude: No thats what I say.


boo boo: yes
boo boo: also tell him he's an idiot and always has been


boo boo: and tell them that's the worst rationalization for banning me permanently i've ever fucking seen


TumorAttitude: shall I bleep out the curses with teh swear filter?


boo boo: sure


TumorAttitude: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KCEWd7usi_M


boo boo: im bored as shit, the possibility of college life is still quite a fucking while away, i just said i miss the forum, not even allowing the community debate weither i have merits as a poster and deserve another chance is totally unfair


boo boo: community to debate*


TumorAttitude: amandria says: . Actually, I have nothing to say about this.

TumorAttitude: should I say that?


boo boo: you cant let that one douche resolve this shit on his own


TumorAttitude: stone birds says
TumorAttitude: truthfully i don't think boo boo was ever all that bad sure he was psychotic but please we all are, i think i few people who hate him just created a "hysteria" of some sort (there's probably a slightly better word to use but i can't think of it right now) on this situation.



boo boo: stone birds can fuck off
boo boo: you dont have to post that but you can if you want


TumorAttitude: I'm not even reading this shit as I post it.


boo boo: actually
boo boo: dont
boo boo: lol


TumorAttitude: read it?


boo boo: at least plea to keep the thread open
boo boo: they're trying to sweep this under the rug and hide what's happening so they can do this shady shit without alarm


TumorAttitude: uhhhhhh


boo boo: without causing alarm*


boo boo: fuck this
boo boo: i'm joining stormfront
boo boo: and i'm posting pictures of janszoon's wife


TumorAttitude: what?
TumorAttitude: WHAT?
TumorAttitude: You're kind of a fucking twat.


boo boo: i know
boo boo: actually i cant do that anyway


TumorAttitude: Work with them insted of against them.


boo boo: lol
boo boo: oh come the fuck on
boo boo: i cant work with them


TumorAttitude: Manipulation isn't just for people with T&A.


boo boo: seriously


TumorAttitude: MANIPULATE THEM YOU DUMBASS.


boo boo: tell them what im about to say


boo boo: i take the fucking time to make a well thought out argument for why i want to return to the website and to correct some of the misguided comments made about me
boo boo: and his response is to perma ban me
boo boo: FUCK HIM
boo boo: post all of that


TumorAttitude: jansoon says I think it's pretty interesting that boobs thinks my comment was smug. It was actually sincere, I do hope he goes and lives his life. He sounds like he has some good stuff going on and I hope he continues along that route, whatever epithets he chooses to hurl my way. He used to do the same thing to me while I was busy sticking up for him in the mod cave so, unfortunately, it's pretty much expected.

Also, Tumor, please keep in mind that he is banned from posting on this site so please stop enabling him by acting as his proxy here. Thanks


boo boo: that's it
boo boo: i'm deleting the cookies from my browser so i can view the website


TumorAttitude: Uhhh, if you want to keep yelling I could copypaste your responses and copypaste the AIM conversation into my blog that no one reads then link it in the thread.


boo boo: ah fucking forget it


TumorAttitude: nah, I'll do that.
TumorAttitude: You have 4-5 minutes to rip into everybody and then I'm going to bed.


boo boo: dont its pointless no one will read it


TumorAttitude: I have a spanish test tomorrow.


boo boo: fuck it


TumorAttitude: They all will, people think its hilarious.


boo boo: actually posting the picture on 4chan would be worse
boo boo: especially if i can find his AIM or email address


TumorAttitude: Gee, you're nice.
TumorAttitude: He hasn't said anything mean to you.
TumorAttitude: Fuck you boobs.
TumorAttitude: Rip into everybody.


boo boo: i just hate him


TumorAttitude: Do something entertaining.
TumorAttitude: Tell me I'm pretty.


boo boo: im too pissed at him to care about anyone else right now


TumorAttitude: TELL ME I'M FUCKING PRETTY.


boo boo: you're fucking ugly


TumorAttitude: LOOK AT ME.
TumorAttitude: How am I fucking ugly?
TumorAttitude: You're fucking ugly. I'm your biff.


boo boo: i hate everyone right now
boo boo: just
boo boo: fuck


TumorAttitude: I didn't do anything to you
TumorAttitude: Awwwww, baby


TumorAttitude: you remind me of myself
TumorAttitude: when I was 10.
TumorAttitude: fuck you bewbz.


boo boo: eh
boo boo: i didnt mean it jesus


TumorAttitude: salright.


boo boo: im not mad at you, but i have to take it out on somebody


TumorAttitude: Take it out on some pretentious bald women. I'm fucking awesome. Fuck you.


boo boo: cuz yes im made, i didnt espect such a stupid fucking response to my comment
boo boo: mad*
boo boo: especially from someone who is supposed to be a mod
boo boo: well yes
boo boo: i know im a hypocrite
boo boo: im also not a mod anymore
boo boo: i even admit i was never cut out for it


boo boo: but that's the kind of modding you see on anime forums
boo boo: i mean jesus fucking christ


TumorAttitude: Oh. Gee.


boo boo: can you find out if he has an AIM address?
boo boo: jans
boo boo: i wont tell him it was you who gave it to me
boo boo: i know that would get you in trouble


TumorAttitude: Are you fucking kidding me?
TumorAttitude: No!


boo boo: ok then


TumorAttitude: Why do you have a picture of this man's wife?
TumorAttitude: What the fuck is wrong with you?


boo boo: i dont


TumorAttitude: GOOD


boo boo: he posted it on the forum
boo boo: which i cant even see
boo boo: im a little spiteful yeah?


TumorAttitude: uhhhhhh
TumorAttitude: are you done?


boo boo: i tried starting an account on 4chan a long time ago and i couldnt figure it out


TumorAttitude: ..................


boo boo: so i wasnt being serious, just fantasizing about it really


TumorAttitude: you don't start accounts on 4chan


boo boo: well i tried posting and it didnt work


TumorAttitude: You don't start accounts on 4chan. Its anonymous.
TumorAttitude: Gee.


boo boo: sorry if you're mad at me now


TumorAttitude: I'm not.
TumorAttitude: I'm publishing this.


boo boo: i made that comment expecting a decent debate from the mods
boo boo: and what i got


TumorAttitude: You're ridiculousness is catching on.
TumorAttitude: poor Anteater got caught up in all of this....


boo boo: was a power abusing hack of a mod swallowing his own jizz
boo boo: fine


TumorAttitude: are you done yet?


boo boo: tell him im sorry
boo boo: you gonna block me now?


TumorAttitude: No, never
TumorAttitude: Tell me I'm pretty.


boo boo: you're pretty


TumorAttitude: why would I block you?


boo boo: because i'm going to do this
boo boo: im never talking to you again


TumorAttitude: what?
TumorAttitude: Why not?

boo boo (CrappyGuitar18) is available

boo boo: ahhh
boo boo: im just kidding
boo boo: im such a dick

hahahahahhahahahahahahhhahahaha

I love you Tessa!

,

I had a dream about you. You were in a group of people and they started talking about God. I was eavesdropping.
"I don't believe in God." you said. "I worship Annie."
They started questioning you. "Why?"
Not like they thought it was stupid, they just seemed scared of the idea and confused by it.
"Well, she doesn't believe in God either." you began. "I just think Annie is really cool, brave, funny, graceful...."
I think you were about to say something about my appearence when my subconcious cut you off. My subconcious speaks loudly and in a slightly more adult sounding version of my voice. "THIS IS WHAT I WANT. THIS IS WHAT I WANT FROM A GUY. ITS WHAT I WANT FROM EVERYBODY, ACTUALLY BUT ESPECIALLY HIM."
Then you wern't in the group of people anymore. You were next to me, hands on my waist. Your eyes fluttered open in a kinda childish way. It was fucking adorable. Probably would have seemed gay outside of the dream but I digress.
I giggle. "Hello goddess." you say. I giggle more. You said god before. You would have said god again if I wasn't right next to you, with my boobs and my long hair and my giggling.
I'm teasing you. "So I'm your religeon now."
You have this huge shit-grin on your face. "Yup, so I have to worship you. I guess I can interpret that how I wish."
Your hands have been on my waist throughtout this entire conversation, of course, and now your lips are touching me too. Its fantastic. I noticed you a long time ago and now, finally, you've noticed me. I love the way you write, I love your lips, I love your voice, I lovethewayyoublushalittlerightbeforeyouejaculate.....
I'm pretty, I'm funny, I'm interesting, I'm unboring without being a shallow twat. I love myself but god it helps now that you do too. You're kissing me. I like you a lot and you're pumping fluid into my ego. Its great.

We play tonsil hockey for a bit and then I wake up happy.

You're a beautiful girl.

You really are. I'm glad you're my friend. You're articulate, well-read, effortlessly cool, and gorgeous......I fucking hate you you bitch. Why do you always do this to me?

Dominate me at every aspect of everything. I quit even trying. I let you have it. You can have the glory, the love and the adoration and I will just be happy to not be alone anymore. Yay, you answered one of my texts and told me how your day was going. I am overjoyed.

You arn't really my friend. You never have been. I'm not articulate or good at all the social shit that you seem to be. How many times do you want me to admit and apologize for it? I have shitty posture. My pores are kind of big. I talk in class too much. I'm not very good at math or science. I'm a flawed person and you're a bottomless pit of perfection.

I roll over and lie on my belly like a dog when I feel like you're getting angry at me. I stop telling jokes and laugh at yours. I let my friends like you better then me. You joke about something I told you in confidence three years ago. I smile. I would have laughed but I was grinding my jaw to keep from crying. I wonder if a real, meaningful friendship would be a more fulfilling addition to your life then using me to make you feel better about yourself. You're articulate, well-read, gorgeous, cool, and carefree.

I am going to vomit.