Scrawl on the Wall 024

So I'm wondering what I'm going to do next. I've got this cool green crayon and an urge to draw gargoyles attacking a school bus that has burst into flames while flying off a cliff into a deep and dark chasm of pure evil.

It reminds me of my youth.

I just can't help feeling all the nostalgia. For that golden era when I would sit around, and be neglected and forgotten by the world and not even notice.

I could just sit there being so introverted and fucked up, and everything was good.

I could just gaze so deep into myself that no one else had ever self gazed that deep without becoming some self-obsessed mass killing psychopath.

I really reflect on things far too much you know?

I think deep down I've always known that I've always known everything there is to know about myself.

But I didn't really want to know everything I know about myself, because some stuff would be better off as a mystery.

I think it would be great to do random weird shit, and look into the mirror the next day and say "Why the fuck did I do that?"

And honestly, really, have no fucking idea why.

I can lie to myself; say "Gee, I have no clue. Why would I have done that?"

But actually, that's just a facade. I could explain every movement down to massive amounts of precision.

I could scare the hell out of a Japanese calculator with my accuracy and attention to detail and how many decimal places I can delve within myself.

I don't need anyone else; I'm fucked up enough for 5 people.