having fun, friend? i hope so, but fun is short-lived, just like everything else, because everything that ever is has to end.

(what's at the beginning of eternity and at the end of the universe?e.)

how do you think you'll go? will you go for the drama, Sylvia Plath style? or will you quietly waste away in an old folk's home, ass submerged in a fetid pool of your own piss?

(RIP: rest in piss)

do you ever think about that? i do. i hope i don't rest in piss, because i don't think i'd feel too satisfied with that. i'd watch my own dead husk of a body after i floated out of it, fist going through the ceiling as i shook it in despair. "what the fust was that?! that's not how i wanted to go! i demand a redo!"

except there are no redoes. fucking dead as shit is fucking dead as shit, my friend. and that's never going to change. life's no video game.

it's all amusing, how hard you try. and i'm still not sorry for laughing when you trip over your own feet. it's okay, because i do the exact same thing. in that respect, i guess we're the same.

someone should really be responsible for this big fat bloody mess, because that's all this is, i suppose.

and now i think it's time for me to go.

will i be back one day? i don't know.

but if i ever am, you can bet your ass i'll be saying, "i told you so."