what the fuck am i trying to do?

Practice some sort of therapy? But I dont believe in therapy. No, i believe in suffering and rising again, bloody hell...  rising again every morning like the sun - but i'm no sun... no, nothing resembling, not even stars, no light in me...  just know that death is closer every morning. Closer, always by my side, my friend in need and only consolation.

I dont like life but it is not my fault. Life has not been anyhow nice to me and i feel no obligation to worship human behaviour. No, i  find it ridiculous. Behaviour is ridiculous! And i'm not going to behave!!!! No, i dont like punk or booze or drugs and i'm no anorectic or bulimic. I just despice behaviour... No teacher ever was clever or wise or knew anything... they just read book aloud... and no-one else has been nothing but a ridiculous pain in the ass with their well-meaning 'have you found a job?' or 'have you got a place to study?' No, i dont want stupid jobs or imbecille schools or universities! I dont want to sell people meat or cosmetics! Or study grammar for five years!!
I rather love death and suffering... and live in my way what i want to live... no-one is going to tell me what to do!!!!! Or not to do!!!
Yeah, childish, narcistic, i know... but that's how it is!

You  know i was born in a house with central heating and we had three cars so i dont have any social or economical ambitions: it doesn't change anything! u may have whatever and it doesn't mean anything. Or it does to some - they behave differently with rich people than with poor. That is comedy!! for me, not them... they are so so so serious! Pinch them and they blow up! Full of shit, thats what they are, pretentious clowns kissing golden asses! Not that i haven't been kissing asses, but they have been flesh and blood! For i do love sex... Maybe it is my drug? And controll... meaning selfcontroll....

So this is a kind of diary... we shall see how long i'll endure this... so far nothing said but words pouring... you know i like my hands moving on the letters, finding the right ones, formulating thoughts... maybe i shall be an author. This is the glorious begining! Yeah, maybe i was a stillborn... depressing! I dont want to be author, so why did i say that? Because i did behave according to expectations! Hah! This is ridiculous...