I'm bored, doing my English assignment and questioning everything, so I thought I'd release a little stream of conciousness from my wound up mind. What is the point of this english assignment? Trying to prove that I am capable of doing something, display my perceptive ability via a ******* essay? There is no point, there is no point to anything. We are all going to die one day, and everything we were is nothing. We disappear. We live in the hope that we will be remembered. We don't care if we live or die, as long as somebody will care when we are gone. If I died now, would you care? Probably not. I don't blame you. Everything is f u c k e d. To make matters worse, our already pointless lives, are exploited even more, because we only live as part of a hive. Something greater. We aren't ourselves, we are a cog in a machine. ****.
Our existance is stale, before our expiry date, so if I were you, I'd take me back to the shop to get your money back. I'm a faulty good, a rip off, I'm the quality good you purchase with your hard earned money that turns out to be nothing. I am a waste of time. I am wasted energy. I am an illusion. You think I am worth somethiong, but I'm not. I'm worth nothing. Every ounce of energy and every glimer of hope, every trickle of sweat and every tear cried is a waste on me is in vein.
I'll give you my soul, but what is it worth? Use it as a paperweight to hold down all your business papers and contracts. I don't care. I don't need it. Have it. Sell it. Put it in the market, make it a commodity. That's all we are. Commodities. We are bought and sold. And I'm not even being symbolic. Our details are bought and sold. Our information is exploited for business statistics. Your phone number is in the hands of hundreds of organisations you don't even know. Your age, your sex, your favourite brand of tampon and thrush medication. It's all in somebody elses hands. Is somebody even reading this. I don't even care. But if you are, hello. Tell me if you read it. I'd appreciate it. Why? I don't know why. You can tell me why. I'm so tired. I'm sick of everything. Everything is disposable, friends, lovers, mothers, daddys, they all come and go, just as fast as they arrived. I wouldn't mind some long term friends, they've came and went so many times over the past year. None of my friends know me. If you read this, you probably know me more than anyone else I know. Nice to meet you stranger. Everyone I meet is ready to leave me for something better. I'm sure it's nothing personal. I'm sure that is how everyone acts with everyone. But just because it's common, doesn't mean I have to like it. If it's socially acceptable, do I have to accept it. I'm not social, therefore I can rejected. I think the world needs to change. Do you? I think something needs to be done. But what can be done? How are so many people content with such hollow lives? How don't they question all these f u c k i n g  lies. I'm broken. I'm gonna hit rock bottom. But rock bottom is the place to be. I'll see you there yeah? Hmm. I'm in my last year of school, so I've been thinking about what I want to do for the rest of my life, nothing really calls out to me. Everything just seems so, BORING. Too consistent. Too flat. Too... I don't know. Just like, I'd be filling a position. I'm not me. I'm my job. I'm my spot in the organisation. Isn't that fantastic. I'd need something to do. Would I? For what? To survive? Who cares about surviving? Just means I'm doing nothing longer. Might as well die huh? People try and seem likek their lives are amazing by jumping out of a plane, or going trekking through a pre made track in Nepal for $3000. that just doesn't cut it to me. Gosh. This seems to be getting really long. If you have read this. You've got a piece of my heart.

I'm a 16 y.o dude from Australia.

I enjoy long walks on the beach and... no not really.

If I notice that your opinion on something has come from the media, or through other peoples opinions, I'm likely to insult you. Take it personally. I want you to think for yourself. I don't want you to be a sheep. Sheep are only led to be slaughtered and eaten.


It's difficult to accurately describe myself in words.

The further you are from general society, the closer you are to me.

If you're psychotic, crazy, deranged, delirious and f u c k e d up, we'll get along perfectly.

I'm strange.

I think I'm creative.

I'm open minded.

I don't judge.

The world would be a better place if we all just chilled the **** out.

I hate the fact that we're always living in preparation for 'something', and each 'something' completed only a prerequisite for another 'something', which is ultimately our demise. Primary school is preparation for high school, high school preparation for university, which is preparation for a job, which we work for the rest of our lives, to fund our empty existence, which we attempt to justify with cars, clothes, and shit we don't need.

I request creeps, weirdos, perves, lunatics.

Open mindedness.

That is all.

So add me. And talk to me. I'll talk back. Maybe. XD

Art. Music. Poetry. Movies. Weird stuff. Foot fetishes.

In no particular order....

The Ramones
Hawthorne Heights
Avenged Sevenfold
Rage against the machine
Bullet for my Valentine
Jet
My Chemical Romance
Escape the fate
The Hives
Good Charlotte
The Killers
Muse
Radiohead
Pink Floyd
Slipknot
Wolfmother
Cobra Starship

I could go on all day...

Pretty much rock...

Lock stock and two smocking barrells
Fight club
Pulp Fiction
Dark Knight
The Godfather
Scarface
HotRod
Silence of the Lambs
One Night in Paris...

Family guy
South Park
Lost
Prison Break
That 70's show

Where's Wally?

"I'm not saying anything... till I get another beer"
Unknown, dear friend.

"You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain..."
Dark Knight

"Why so serious"
Joker

"Evening commissioner"
Joker again haha.

"Your so cool Chevy, so totally awesome, I wish I was like you, but no I'm lame, did I mention you were cool?"
Morgan.

"You people don't understand. I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me! "
Rorschach