We live in a disturbed, false masterpiece.
Saturday, 04/13/02 - 10:54 pm.

I saw the Ram commercial with Just Push Play in the background. It made me happy. You wouldn't believe how happy I was.

I just wrote my -modesty aside- most brilliant entry of all times, and it got erased. I'm drawing a dotted line on my wrist that says cut here. When I get mad, I bleed. Because I bite myself. Yes, I do. Yes, it hurts. A lot. But yes, I'm mad.

Today it was school's Easter celebration. I got at school at 7:30 am. I was with Roberto 98% of the time.

Listen to this...for the first time in my life, I got out of school and I went to the mall with him to buy flour and spoons for a rally activity. My parental units took it pretty well: Uh....sure, yeah...just take care of yourself, my mom said. Because I called to tell them I was going out. I called to tell, not to ask.

Ovationate me.

Roberto says that my parents live in denial. They do. They seem to believe I just have girlfriends. In fact, sometimes it seems they don't notice they put me in a school for both genders. I don't know why my mom assumed that I was going to the supermarket (in the mall) with a group of girlfriends. Their life it's so sad.....that's one of Roberto's most mentioned comment: that's just so sad. Even when it's not. It's just an answer to any previous comment.

I told him life's not a bitch. Life's a son of a bitch, and therefore, life's a bastard. He said that was just even sadder.

Ricardo and I spent some time together. Our encounters are as rare and nice as planets lining up: not so often, don't last that much, but are very amusing. We're always alone. And today, it was just the both us walking around the halls, surrounded by darkness. There's nothing like talking crap with a funny friend.

So, I had to deal with masses of people at this Easter crap. Crowds are mindless and heartless, and they only make me want to carry a gun and pull it out. Shoot to the ceiling and then aim to all of them, make them bend and see if then they are all-dancing and all-singing.

I realized I'm astonishing disgusted by masses.

I caught these kids of Junior high stealing candies and balloons, that happened to be material for the Easter rally. I swear to God, I was dying to have a gun and use it against them. You don't know these people. You don't know what it's like to be in the middle of a crowd that's as unestable as the waves of the sea. You don't what real people is.

When I was talking to the guy tonight, something drew my attention...in my shade, there were two things: one white and one dark-brown, and both reminded me of chocolate. Only they were not chocolates. It was a roach, moving out of his dark skin. It was disgusting. And yet it was a treasurable Discovery Channel moment...it wasn't even a Kodak moment, it was more a handicam moment.

Come to think about it, those people are like roaches: as disgusting, but less interesting. MOTHERFUCKING BASTARDS, I HOPE I'LL BE THE ONE TO KILL YOU ONE DAY!!!!

I think I sound like a pathetic bitch whose life is worthless and hateful. But no, I love my life. I love me *individual group hug (Simeon's asleep)*. People drive me to extreme madness and anger, but I am happy. Like I've said before and like I said to the guy tonight: happinness does not reside in the future. Happinness is in front of you, you're surrounded by happinness. Happinness is seeing kids tripping (I saw a lot today...Ricardo and I saw one in particular, who we named little Timmy), it's the first taste of chocolate milk in your tongue, it's....

You've just been offered the wrong image of happinnes, and you were naive enough to buy it. Happinness is like a pair of glasses that you're looking for, without even noticing that you're already wearing them...you're just focused on looking for it on the most outrageous places, but they're right fuckin' there. You just don't want to accept it, because the answer sounds too simple, and it can't be that simple. WAKE THE FUCK UP! It is.

So, anyway....I can't stand masses, and sometimes I do want to have a gun and use it. I'm dead serious. I know, it's kind of overreacting, but you don't know these people. You don't know. You just don't.

They live in their own world. People build up a fantasy world and give it tragical turns, so it'll look like reality. It was disgusting seeing all those people, having zero tolerance at others' existence, just because they belonged to a different group.

They're like potential hooligans.

You are not your job.
You are not how much you have in the bank.
You are not the contents of your wallet.
You are not your fucking Khakis.
You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.

I know...I'm not the smartest person in this world. But I'm not an all-singing crap. I'm Jack's desperation to pick a fight against our depression.

Our generation has had no Great Depression, no Great War. Our war is spiritual. Our depression is our lives.

MAKE A FUCKIN' LINE!!! I yelled to a bunch of kids that weren't listening to Cory. We were checking the people who showed up and we needed them to line up. They kindly obeyed when they heard me. Cute. But pathetic.

The things you own end up owning you.

People own stupidity.

You are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.

I am Jack's loss of hope.

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