I had already written half a fucking blog entry, and by the majestic wonder of accidental typing, I some how got out of it and ruined a great deal of time worth of work. Should I reiterate all the typing I've already done? Nah. Hella nah, niggas. Fuck the lotta yalls. Pretty much, I said some things, and you'll agree wtih them because you're a bunch of dumb fuck that either don't care, or you're cool enough to get the fact that there are many flaws to deal with, primarily that of that stupid god damn blog that somehow is the lifeblood and bane of my meaningless, worthless existence.
We observe the demographics. We know that beyond our associates and "parents", people read what we do. People take in our words as if they have a worth beyond a cheap laugh or something of similar ilk. However, when a primary writer has had too many martinis and is upset that he still lives in this constantly shaking, dark world, we can't help but see that there is nothing we can do but cling to our false hopes, that may be real hopes.
Here are a few things I shall share because I'm drunk, and flat out frustrated with life and don't even care at this point anymore.
I am Xavier R. Some may know me personally, some may know from my former internet personas or from life itself. When I was a mid teenager, for a brief period time I thought I was gay, because of the over saturation of a particular life style in popular media. I am the exact opposite of gay, as it turns out. I am a woman loving sex addict who would sooner be late to work then lack a decent orgasm. Though my sex life has been lacking as of the past couple of years, if I didn't have good access to porn, then my nice guy persona would vanish, and I would fall back to fucking everything with a vagina that I came across.
I am sick. I am sick with the madness that haunts every breath that I take. I am the borderline sociopath that craves the constant attention of the pussy, imaginary or real. I am the artist that sucks in sugar. Wither with pain, the sugar be actual sugar or the metaphor for a creative sorce. I am the fat piece of shit that eats too much when he is drunk. I am so lonely. I crave attention yet hate everyone too much to seek salvation.
I wish I lived closer to Big Mike. He'd spout some nonsense that would make me feel better about myself. He'd blah blah blah about blah blah blah and everything would be cool. That's not the case though. I don't mind. Better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all, right? Wrong? Who knows. Who cares. Who knows, even. But here we are, dealing with it. Here we are, living with it.
I love you, you fucking losers. I love you, more than I should.
~Xavier R.
