There Is No Point

Responsible.

I am responsible now... I used to cry myself to sleep, wishing I could pay rent and buy groceries. I wanted nice things. Now, as I sit in a cafe, sipping a spicy chai and typing on my MacBook Pro, I recognize how my wants have shifted.

I was watching a movie the other night, where a character had practically every bone in her body smashed in some awful accident. As she sat in her hospital bed, morphine constantly dripping into her blood stream, I wished I had an excuse to be on morphine all day. Maybe in some sort of terrorist attack, where I lay out the bad guys and save the world, or at least the building.

I used to love opiates and hanging out, but now- I can't. I have to stay focused, but for what? Success? Presence? I just watched 2012 and I realize success is pretty pointless. However, like other rappers before me, I must get dat paper, y'all. Sure, I would rather be euphorically itchy all over while I tried, but then I yell at cats for "talking" too much.

I'm working on a book, but don't tell anyone... I don't want to subject myself to public ridicule. I was writing jokes, but then I lost the page I was working on, so I picked up some opiates and now am havein fuhn. Don't know what all these small townsie people are looking at... like their ticks don't make them itchie... I could have ticks, what do they know? One thing definitely havein: FUUUUUUUUUhhhhHHhhhn. I should go some where and masturbate.

OH THANK GOD THERE IS A NEW NOTIFICATION IN FACEBOOK!