There is a bug in my ass tonight.
Why do humans insist on bitching all the time? We all do it. Hit me with the guilty verdict. These days I handle my complaints in a different way. Where as I used to numb away the madness with any form of chemical I could find, now I just squat down for a good ol' mental shit on this wide ruled paper. My words would reek louder and linger longer if only the notebook were college ruled.
Many people out there are just completely miserable. They take any and every opportunity to spread their negative viruses throughout the airwaves. Loud, furious thunder follow these fuckers down each hallway, sidewalk, or street they travel. Their bombing stench of negativity, similar to sewage on a sultry summer afternoon. Question to self: "Was I ever this way? Did it ever get so bad I resorted to the constant melody of Chainsaw Chatter?" My hazy ways may have guarded me from traveling the Boulevard of Malcontent.
Over indulging in glass half empty syndrome is a cancer to the soul. Venting to a friend or through a pen from time to time is one thing. However, if you find every word that vomits from your mouth is hate meets complaint, you may want to take a second look at the picture you paint.