I hate growing up. It sucks. It really really fucking sucks. In fact, it sucks a big fat huge mammoth of a cock. I mean, what ever happened to my days of carefree laughter and unrelenting immaturity. The days when I played doctor and I wasnt concerned with having to actually suck on or fondle what I was seeing. The days of endless hours of tag and only worrying about whether or not the street lights went on so I could be home in time for dinner. When did I stop knocking on my neighbors door and asking them to play, and begin knocking on my brain and asking it to think?

Its kind of like I feel a void in my body that brings unsuspecting tears to my eyes. And, as I sit and stare, I know do not of, exactly, what it is that I am lusting for. I want to shout, scream, and flick off a six year old all at the same time, just to have someone, anyone, pay attention. It is as if the world has continued to spin but I have refrained to exist. Like I dont matter. I feel like that at this very moment. Confused. I feel as if my head is going to explode because millions of my thoughts are accelerating into each other. Inside of my, rather large, head cells duplicate, yet I, still, seem to be becoming slower, blinder, lesser. Bluntly, I am becoming denser, due to the lack of capable human beings that surround me. Every day my head is abrasively clubbed for hours because it allows some ass hole to get an erection on how it makes him feel better to put me down. Inside I think, "fuck off you pea brained, monkey fucking, pencil dick" but in the "real" world, I clean up the wounds with a paper towel and some Neosporin. Pretty pathetic, huh? I feel lost, and I want to scream obscenities and hide like a coward at the same time. I am fed up with the shit decent, intelligent, half way competent people have to put up with everyday. And it is now time to say something about it. But I fear that no one will listen.

Honestly, Im sure you are thinking, do I really want to read some shitty half assed overanalyzed rant, that an adolescent with a computer and pre adult hood problems is writing about in order to, therapeutically, dismiss her anger towards the world thats gonna fuck us up the ass anyway? Well, my answer to you is this: If you have progressively continued to read my shit, you understand words that are bigger than one syllable, (congratulations by the way), and you might as well continue on because it is obviously striking your fancy in some way or another.

Many things perturb me, confuse me, and make me think ill of the overly selfish bastards that smother me. First of all, it seems that people are becoming more and more inconsiderate, and I want to know why ? Corruption is starting to fall into order quite nicely, and greed is a predominant trait in head figures that we, as a nation, are somehow being deceived by presently. I want to know what to hell is wrong with us? Weve produced religious figures that rape boys not yet old enough to understand which way is up and which is down and we try to keep it "hush, hush". Children are continuously playing with guns that their parents are bringing home and leaving in play rooms but it wont be until the child of someone rich and powerful dies that anything is executed. I want to know why, women will continuously pee on the seats in bathrooms but no one does a thing to stop this vicious cycle. Sit down for fucks sake, you are not going to have a fine dined meal off your ass. I WANT TO KNOW WHY WE DO THE THINGS WE DO! So, basically, Im tired, confused, and whatever other adjectives you can think of that come along with getting older and figuring your shit out. I try to question everything, but Im finding myself becoming more and more bamboozled out of my sanity. Id say, in general, Im a fairly pleasant person. Sometimes, I like to flatter myself by believing that I am different then others. But then I realize Im not. Some times Im happy, sometimes Im sad. More the first than the latter, but that doesnt mean I cant get angry once in a while. You see, Im waiting for something, and I dont, yet, quite know what it is. I think maybe my life is some cruel joke and all this pent up disillusioned enthusiasm that life has brought to me is going to end with an enormous explosion of "fuck you, your existence is pointless". Tell me Frankie, aint that a kick in the head? As Sabrina Ward Harrison once said "We are all the same, we just have different circumstances." but behind all that I am afraid and scared and very alone. But then I think "well, arent we alone?" I mean who can really say that they arent? We all die alone, dont we? At least we face biting the big one, by ourselves. And even if we die one day, having loved and been loved, in the end we face our finale, our thoughts in our head, and our tears in our eyes by ourselves.

People are trying to define me and at the risk of sounding like a, stereo typical large, weave patting, black, woman " you dont know me" so stop trying to catagorize who I am. Im pissed off, but that doesnt mean Im unhappy. I get jealous of people and their unwavering ability to love others, but that doesnt mean I dont appreciate what I have. I possess every emotion, and in no way am limited to being analyzed as one single aspect of the human capability to feel. I feel everything. I feel it all, so why the fuck do you say who I am, and what I am feeling when you have no clue? To pretentiously quote Oscar Wilde, "To define is to limit" and I think we are all trying to define each other far too much. Youve got enough fucking problems with your self, or even problems that are beyond me. Deal with that first and then you can tell me who I should be as a person. Take care of poverty, crime, rape, murder, greed and corruption and then worry about figuring out why I am who I am. Im not saying dont care about your neighbor, or regretfully ignore those you love because of all the other bigger things that are going on. Im not saying that you should try fix everything either. What im saying is we need to spend less time trying to pathetically attempt to pick each others brains in order to dive deep into their soul, and devote more time to realizing who we are. In our miserably failing endeavors to define everything, we are forgetting about all other options to life. We are quick to pass judgment, catagorize, and molest ideas that are passed by us.

The world moves fast. Sometimes I look around and its spinning beneath me so quickly I just have to take a deep breath in and not forget to breathe out afterwards. I dont really know where I am going with this. There is no answer. I dont know why I am here. You dont know why you are here. Unless you believe in organized religion, then you think you know. But, well, you arent positive now are you? I dont know if I like it here. I dont even know if I like me and what Ive become. I guess I just dont know anything. I know Im angry at the world for trying to placate me, and I wont shut up about it. I wanna grow up, but I want to be a child. This is the beginning of a lot of rants to come.