You know, sometimes I wonder while I even allow myself to believe in the illusion that I can ever be truly happy. I mean, shit, I know that I’m better off a bitter, cynical bastard.
Shame on me for thinking that it could ever be any other way.
That’s right, kids, Girl 2007.1 is now a smoking ash-heap.
But, with the illusion of happiness draining away, I now feel the creative juices of spite and sarcasm boiling in my blood once again. I’m back, bitches.