“Sitting in a pool of your own piss, with underwear and a big fat lazy gun.”

You know, it’s funny how much little girls can really get under my skin. Not necessarily little in stature, but in the sense of common sense, intelligence and all things that most people hold dear. I am not one to really pick fights, but when a small little girl has the audacity to question my status as whore, due to a few half-thought meanderings in my journal..well, it’s really all too much.

I would say this: for all you know of me, which is little, and all I know of you: your midnight raping of my friend, your firestarter breath while pretending to be the sober non-alcoholic you claim to be, and your continued clawing at her resilience like it’s your last breath of fresh air.

For you, I will stick a big fat loser sticker on your head. Or better yet, in the air above it since your brain has shrunken you to the size of a small midget, with all your value on society today. Bitter? Nah…Though I am sick of your peonic ramblings because your jealousy on attention on subjects other than yourself is laughable.

I need to do more yoga. The stress of October is hitting a nerve.