Really freakin tired. Really freakin bored. Really fucking fed up. I'd like to move away now. Thank you. What to do... How about some spanish: Tengo domir para manana, para... yo no say. I don't know if that last part is correct. My father always told me that boredom is the sign of a weak mind. Maybe he's right. I feel like shit. The shittiest shit ever. Don't know why. Body revolting. Revolting? Homonym to revolting: disgusting? Wrong word choice? Body malfunctioning. Mutiny. Angry sinew. My feline's name is Martha. She is INSANE!!! I guess that's what makes her so great. Her CRAZINESS! That is, until she chews through the wire to my precious headphones. Not cool. Not-at-all. Because I need those. I need my music. Maybe to live. At least keep my sanity. Maybe she was jealous, because she never had the music to keep her sane. And now, well, it's just too late for that crazy fuckin cat. Too late indeed. I'm rambling like a drunk. A completely sober drunk. I'm exhausted. And oh so bored. I'm not bored, just tired. I suppose I've done a lot today. Things that I suppose would, in turn, exhaust me. Getting all fired up about society, walking a lot, playing chess, smoking all the time. I love smoking, too much. I really really should stop. This HAS gotten out of hand and should be dealt with. I think I may have cancer. Too much screaming and smoking makes for a rough voice. I'm going to Taco Bell now. I won't eat their food, don't fret, I just want to hang out with people...