I wish I had emo hair so it would cut itself.

Done with school and listening to Japanese heavy metal at full volume. I feel like yelling. At someone. Not sure who. But I think that Powell's on Hawthorne would be a good place to start looking. It's time to stop using any qualifiers like "I think." I'm not writing it if I don't think so. And I'm not me if I'm not right.

My next lady friend (not special lady) must be much younger than me, but look much older.

And this.

Now scream.