Today was really great.
I got out of bed really late because my alarm clock has broken and I cannot afford a new one at the moment.
I feel unusual because my antidepressants are making me hairy.
I'm so stoned.
Last night I had to masturbate twenty times. I'm so horny. Click here to see my website.
I want to tell the world that I'm gay.
I am sharpening my knives before I go to work today, because I'm going to cut out Robert's heart and feed it to him for losing my mail.
Today, I got a digital camera! Yes! Here's ten thousand photographs of my cat.
I want to say thanks to the world for absolutely fucking nothing! You all suck. I feel so alone, no one ever reads this journal, or even comments to let me know that I'm not suffering alone. It's cold here, and I want to die, but I cannot figure out how many of you to take with me when I go.
I went to the doctor yesterday, and he said I have a terrible skin disease which prevents me from coming into contact with other human beings. And bipolar disorder.
You should all do this quiz! It's amazingly accurate. You just put in your name and birthday, and it will tell you what your favourite sexual position is.
That's enough for now. But I'll leave you with this poem I wrote. It's about my friend Robert, who has bipolar disorder. Just like me. And Heidi.
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