SHOOT OR DIE.

 Our only response was to keep on going and fuck everything. Pile misery upon misery, heap it up on a spoon and dissolve it with a drop of bile, then squirt it into a stinking purulent vein and do it all over again. Keep on going: getting up, going out, robbing, stealing, fucking people over, propelling ourselves with longing towards the day it would all go wrong. Because no matter how much you stash or how much you steal, you never have enough. No matter how often you go out and rob and fuck people over you always need to get up and do it all again.

It makes no sense for me to breath, and it makes no sense for me to wake up It makes no sense to eat, and it makes no sense for me to sleep

Feeling small. Feeling worthless. Feeling pointless.

Keepin' it super awkward since 1990 babyy.