You know what, I don’t care just how many times I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again – even if I did. I don’t think I’m even going to try to fit in to society.

So, I decided to go out tonight. Oh, how wonderful, me and a few friends hanging out at the bar, yay! Wrong. Nobody cares about me hardly as much as I care about them and/or the rest of society.  I don’t mind this whole ad populem act as much as I mind te awful practice of excluding the individual.

I myself, not being a fascist, like to take care of myself as well as my surroundings, and when I’m not happy, I start a vicious cycle.

Problem number one. I quite honestly have no friends. I have acquaintances. It’s the most awful way anyone could ever end up. It’s as if I’m completely detached. Is there any point in even trying to be a part of it all? I never was, not for one second, I don’t recall.

Example. A certain person, whom  I shall call Andrew had his birthday. Great. All sorts of people invited, who isn’t? Me. You know what, I did half your fucking biology experiment, I ran straight to your help when your precious PowerBook had a hardware problem I did everything I knew to get it back. And I get what? You know what, go home and concentrate on something. Oh, sorry, you also have ADD. Go take some meds like the rest of us, those who are actually trying to do something about it. Go formulate opinions, so that you don’t have to reverse them every so often like you quite often do in conversations – you know what – you deserve me not coming.

It just came to a point where my current lack of actual friends will lead to a future deficit of such, which will in turn decline into the depths of desperation and kill me one of these days. Don’t tell me I’m not adjusted to the Danish schedule will you? You’re not making it any better – I know I’ll never fit in anywwhere, you don’t have to remind me. I’m having a hard time as it is. It’s hard, it is.

The only person who did sem to want my company was a friendly hobo, trying to flirt with me, having mistaken me (understandably enough) for a woman.

It starts to rain, I head back home, hoping that maybe the rain at least won’t smear my carefully applied eyeliner – my new fear. In my mom’s stolen jacket, heading to bed after yet another night which I should have spent doing anything but going out. You know what mom, if you ever wonder why I don’t call you after leaving home – just think – remember that time you called me a tranny? YES, THAT’S WHY. How about you try “fag” next time, that might work as well. I should have never come out to you, I should have taken the first man I see, bring him home and have loud sex in my bedroom, yes, shove it in front of you. I should put my eyeliner pencil right in front of your nose. Checked the bottom-left compartment of my closet? Do you think that patterned cloth is just a rag? Why does is reassemble a skirt so much I wonder! Don’t you just love your little illusions, mother!

I quite honestly often wonder what I’ll do without a certain friend, whom I’m hoping will visit me, if he can keep control over his wallet. He’d rather go see that Finn I can imagine, but what he doesn’t know is how I need just what he can offer right now. Please come, I beg you.

I’m very sorry if this is a little too much, but I really want to get it out there. Don’t worry, I’m fine for the most part.