Murder.

17th October 2008
Friday

They say words are sharper knives. How ironic for me, who takes pride in my words, to learn that lesson the hard way.

For the first time in my life, murder ran across my mind. It seems like such a simple task, to place a nail gun against another's neck, to pull the trigger and feel the recoil. How long would it take for life to ebb away through a hole in the artery the size of a nail diameter?

It is a dozen years too early for you to preach to me about respect. Respect is something that have to be earned. And judging from your mannerisms, who butt into the business of other people, demanding a voice that has no right to be heard, I simply have no respect for you.

Yes, I am a ill-mannered bastard who does things to sabotage performances just to get a kick out of it. I look down on the people around me because it is fun. I like sarcasm and making a fool out of others. So if you see me around, fuck off. 'Cause I'll probably spit at you in your face or something.

Oh. And I'll fucking pay $200 for that pair of specs.