A life less ordinary
Today. I choose pink.
Not becus I'm a sissy girl or anything.
I chose pink becus it just made me feel happy.
Who am I?
I'm 24 and a half. Going on 25 really soon.
My passion in life? To kill the people who piss me off every single day.
And that, sadly, includes my mother.
Then again.
All serial killers started with someone who had direct contact with them first.
The one who gives life to them usually fall into that category.
Now these people usually carry the imense guilt for causing serious emotional and physcological damage to these pitiful specimens of humanity. And that would be me.
So. That kinda sums up my day job.
My night job is just a cover.
I moonlight with a international coffee company.
I have 3 managers running the joint.
One's a sweetie pie. But she's top on my to-kill list as she stands in the way of my resignation.
You see. I've got principles. I don't bite the hand of the one who feeds me. But then again. I hardly know her. So shoot me. She's just a pin waiting to be toppled.
The other is a cross dressing bitch. And an ugly one at that. When she tries to smile. All the facial muscells get all confused and go bezerk.
The last is a heavy weight campion. She throws her weight around all the time. She acts all cute and shit. Probably its a reflex action when you're that big. You just want to be small and go un-noticed. But this fella's got it all wrong. She acts small. As in mentality the size of her shoe. Maybe if people think she's young. They might actualyl forget she's huge. I think she needs to go thrid. After my mum and my sweetie pie boss. Cus she's throwing her weight around and someone might actually get hurt. The cross dresser I'll save for desert.
My other job.
Is in the arts.
Honestly. I don't even know where this is going to go.
It's scary when you can see the future. Or you don't even daydream about it.
Makes you question.
Why did I choose this in the first place.
So back to basics.
I'm 24. Going on 25. No proper job. I don't get cpf for killing people. Especially people the government don't really give a fuck about.
I forgotten why I love the arts.
Everyday. I write a page. A new one.
Telling people about my stinking life.
Not becus I'm a sissy girl or anything.
I chose pink becus it just made me feel happy.
Who am I?
I'm 24 and a half. Going on 25 really soon.
My passion in life? To kill the people who piss me off every single day.
And that, sadly, includes my mother.
Then again.
All serial killers started with someone who had direct contact with them first.
The one who gives life to them usually fall into that category.
Now these people usually carry the imense guilt for causing serious emotional and physcological damage to these pitiful specimens of humanity. And that would be me.
So. That kinda sums up my day job.
My night job is just a cover.
I moonlight with a international coffee company.
I have 3 managers running the joint.
One's a sweetie pie. But she's top on my to-kill list as she stands in the way of my resignation.
You see. I've got principles. I don't bite the hand of the one who feeds me. But then again. I hardly know her. So shoot me. She's just a pin waiting to be toppled.
The other is a cross dressing bitch. And an ugly one at that. When she tries to smile. All the facial muscells get all confused and go bezerk.
The last is a heavy weight campion. She throws her weight around all the time. She acts all cute and shit. Probably its a reflex action when you're that big. You just want to be small and go un-noticed. But this fella's got it all wrong. She acts small. As in mentality the size of her shoe. Maybe if people think she's young. They might actualyl forget she's huge. I think she needs to go thrid. After my mum and my sweetie pie boss. Cus she's throwing her weight around and someone might actually get hurt. The cross dresser I'll save for desert.
My other job.
Is in the arts.
Honestly. I don't even know where this is going to go.
It's scary when you can see the future. Or you don't even daydream about it.
Makes you question.
Why did I choose this in the first place.
So back to basics.
I'm 24. Going on 25. No proper job. I don't get cpf for killing people. Especially people the government don't really give a fuck about.
I forgotten why I love the arts.
Everyday. I write a page. A new one.
Telling people about my stinking life.
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