You can apologise all you want, blow it out your ass 'til it has no meaning whatsoever. At some point this has started to become a reality for me. A simple 'sorry' doesn't really cover the charges implied, it does not compute or compensate. It simply sits there, 'sorry'. Like a doormat. Or one of those cute magnets on the fridge.
"sorry"
It just doesn't seem to cut it anymore. I need new words to express how - insert new meaningful phrase here - I am for all this shit. It's been falling on me, around me, and taking others in it's maelstrom. I'm a right avalanche of infectious excrements.
Self-loathing is serious business, it's perhaps one of the things I'm most adamant about. You can never go wrong with some proper self-hatred. I try not to show it in public places, because becoming pitiful means getting all this unwanted attention from so-cal friends who just pee their pants in anticipation of being able to get your sorry ass back on its feet. But that's not the point. I'm growing something here, and here you go stepping on my delicate young flowers of self-loathing. I don't come to your house and mess up your lifestyle now do I? So people, a word of advice: leave the self-loathing bastard to his own affairs.
Meanwhile, here's a nice video of cute baby animals to soothe those worried minds and tummies, with the added touch of non-invasive surfer popmusic by Jack Johnson.
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