Ever have one of those days that you HATE everything but at the same time you don't?
Like for example, today seems like it would be a good idea to go and murder everyone.
And then you think, "Well, I doubt they'd enjoy that. Murdering does wonders for screwing up people's complexions and skin. They wouldn't like that."
Take for example, a woman. It is entirely possible (and very likely) to both hate and love a woman at the same time.
Don't lie. You know that feeling.
Sometimes you want to snap, grab a shotgun and kick down the door and pause, for just a second, to see the expressions on your co-workers, classmates, tongzhimen, what have you, and then blow them the fuck away.
Then you think of poisoning the coffee pot, because all of the poor saps drink coffee anyways. And you'd still get the effect of having them dead PLUS you might not have to face the consequences wanton open murder tends to carry with it.
And you get to see their faces contorted in pain from the poison.
Is it bad that I'm smiling and in a good mood because of writing this? Fuck emo. Happy murder is the way to go. Service with a smile, and all that. Smiling, smiling, smiling until they GET A KNIFE IN THE FACE. Right in the fucking face. That'll shut up little Susie, fuck, it'll shut anyone up.
And anyone watching. Because, god, if you can smile while stabbing a small child (or any person, for that matter) you're either a bonafiable badass or just plain vanilla psychotic.
I like to think I'm not psychotic because I manage to put my pants on on the first try with out putting both legs into one hole, and that I also contribute to the society. Maybe that drives us insane. Because, God knows, there are only about 4, maybe 5 people that you can talk to on a regular basis without going insane. Hopefully, for your sakes, one is of the opposite gender and feels the same about you. If there isn't, well, there's always the two -tions- masturbation and prostitution.
The only reason you're reading this is either because you're hoping for a suicide note at the end, or a plea for help, so you can relentlessly mock me. Ha, I say, ha. For why would you expect such a thing from me? Suicide is fucking retarded. Seriously. If I'm going to die, it'll be old and in my bed. Or in a fiery plane crash. Whatever. But if I'm going to cause my own death, I'll guarantee about 20 or 30 other souls. Be they on the wrong end of my gun, or because they're trying to kill me (I don't take kindly to that, killing of me will be met with me trying to kill you :D).
Now here comes the inevitable "You're like that VTech guy! You want to kill people!" Sure I do. But I don't. Everyone wants to kill someone. Most of us don't. I've merely killed six people, and all of those were a matter of business that I got paid handsomely for. Not because I just snapped and decided to go on a rampage. No, my friend, those bodies were quite well handled, because they're at the bottom of the bay encased in concrete where no one will find them. If I just snapped, I'm sure I wouldn't have the foresight to plan the murder more elaborately and entirely untraceable to me.
Nay, snapping is generally a bad business proposition. Ever notice that in movies the guy loses everything because he snapped? I don't want to be that guy. Nor any of the guys on the receiving end of his snapping.
And then there's the fact that women are evil. More likely to snap, if you ask me. Though not as much to kill someone, nay, snap just to ruin the fuck out of someone's life. Chilling, if you ask me.
And then there's love. A series of exceptions that you'd be glad to make for someone, in hopes that they'll do the same for you. Friendship is the same principle.
Anyways, I think I digressed enough. What I'm trying to say, I guess, is when you kill someone, smile when you do it. People won't fuck with you after that.