Life is empty. There is nothing to do. There is nothing. I am empty. Life is empty. There is nothing. I don’t just roll over and die. But I am meaningless. My existence is meaningless. I don’t just die. But I don’t really do anything interesting or useful either. I guess I progress the science machine slowly. But I have a mental illness so I don’t do it very well. I mean I guess as good as anyone else. I’m not allowed to talk about where I work because that’s private. I would if I weren’t paranoid. But you started it, Twitch. Motherfuckers.

Mom’s asleep all day so I can’t talk to her. She has to work tonight. I shouldn’t be talking about her.

Ugh. Life’s so dangerous. I feel like ten thousand people stalk me and want to harm me. Why is it so hard to accomplish though?

I haven no friends. But I don’t think I’m the type to get friends. I mean if there existed any humans on earth who were light hearted and just kind of easygoing i would be friends with them but everyone on earth is serious and deadly. It’s not fun. There are no good people. Everyone on the news and tv is evil. Everyone in my life, my coworkers and management, is evil. There are no more peers. Everyone here on the blogosphere has problems and, though also insecure, is also evil. With their dying breath they will shit on me. Fuckers. Fuck you. Gross as garbage. You’re all trash.

So I don’t know what to do.

There’s nowhere to go.

I had too much coffee. I needed a high of some sort. Except I forgot too much coffee makes me paranoid halluciational. And I have to ignore my consciousness and act like a robot psychology to learn the logic to deduce that coffee is bad for me. Because retards tell me it is. So I have to listen to them. One of them is my mother.

I have no life. I don’t know what to do.

I give up.

Ugh.

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