journal entry

this internet shit is impossible for me.
for the past 2 days I have been trying to get all my online accounts set up. You know, Facebook, myspace, etc.
I’ve been here before.
I don’t know what it is.
I just can’t do it.
The soullessness of all of it just murders me.
My intuition starts screaming in rage that this is wrong; this is an injustice to my artistry and to my whole essence.
And I look at the people who live by all this like it’s their blood and I cringe and want to die. It’s sickening.
so after contemplating this for about 20 seconds on a head full of booze, I decided to say fuck you to it all.
Sure, it will probably not do me any favors regarding my dead-end music career or my long-ago extinct social life but I have to follow my intuition. My intuition is more important than oxygen. Without it I become another turd on the sidewalk waiting to be stepped on. Not that I really had those things ever anyway. What I had was people to drink with. People to pat me on the back. People to stab me in in the neck.
I wish I had the guts to disappear for good once and for all.
The courage to do so is quickly gathering.
If I could only get through another night of torture. In other words this….this fucking existing.
It’s the insane who have it all figured out.