2003-05-07 - 11:30 p.m.
I just killed a bottle of Jack. I'm so drunk I can barely see.
You know what the weird thing is? I still take the time to go back and correct the typos I make (of which there are many, because I'm still trying to type at my usual speed). I really should learn to let go of that.
There isn't a song to describe how angry I am.
There isn't a song to describe how sad I am right now. I want to cry so badly, if for no other reason than to prove that I can, in spite of what anyone else or even I might think I am capable of.
But my friend Jack will never leave me. And he won't betray me, because Jack loves me in the purest of senses. Jack won't break my heart even once, let alone three times.
Whoever signed my guestbook anonymously can go fuck themselves. You may be upset at my using the term worthless to describe half the Ripon Townies who used to be my friends, but by refusing to sign your name to what you have to say, you have only proven my point.
Ha, I'm drunk and I'm still a better writer than whoever that dumb fuckhead was. And I don't care if you're someone I even wanted to remain friendly with- You're worthless because you haven't got the testicular fortitude to let me know who you are. If you reveal yourself, maybe we can work something out, otherwise, go to hell. I don't need worthless little idiots in my life anyway. I fill up that gap enough myself.
I wish a Hank Williams could describe what I'm feeling right now. But there isn't one, so I'm just going to crawl back into my bottle and hope I can find something. Bye.
Ken
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