Potato.

Take a potato. Throw it against the wall. Run away. Walk around telling people that “The potato hates me” all day. If they ask why, kill them. Take the bodies to your pit and throw them in. When you have accumulated 100 bodies empty a gas canister onto them and light it. Bury the ashes. Take a shower. Cry in the corner for being a horrible person. A monster. No. That would insult monsters. Monsters can be nice and kind. Kind and nice monsters.
Can you do that? If not then you win the right to not be non-existent. Though if you exist then it’s same to assume that you exist. It isn’t but it’s easier to say that it is. Because it really is. Even if it isn’t.
Since you exist even if you don’t then you may continue to do what you do even if you do because don’ting isn’t a possibility. Or a word. I don’tingly think that don’ting isn’t a word.
Hey! Have you seen Bob. Of course you haven’t. I murdered him and burned his corpse. You can’t call me a murder! That is uncalled for. Just because I killed someone and burned the corpse doesn’t mean I’m a murderer. The reason why allows me to.
Do you feel that? It feels like the earth is being torn into a ball of yarn. Torn at the seems into a coke bottle. How the sorrow spreads. Like spider bags made of plastic metal. Just becuase my Imagery doesn’t makes sense you can go ahead and change it to something that is correct, but I know the correct answer so you loose because you are a looser who will always loose even when you always beat me.
Yawn. Yawn if despair. Yawn of joy. Despair with joy! And fires. Dam I hate it when they run out of fries. That’s my favorite part.

Well

Can you do the thing that I can do? Probably. I’m not that great. Though I may be better at meth than you. I’m pretty good at that. Surprisingly. Spelling? Not so good. Neither of my parents are any good at math. They both went to art school. I do not have art skills. I’m bored with myself right now. I suck. I shall create a character that is not me but still is me because I am myself. Are you yourself? No. You’re lying! Unless you actually did say no. Then you win. But since I am reading this as I write it, because I don’t actually think this stuff through... I lost track of my sentence. O, well. Well, you vex me so. Don’t you just hate Well. O, and love him. That part is important too. But how can you not do that? You do that’s how! Ha I will not confuse you with my mastery of mystery hand gestures of DOOM! Exclamation mark error! Of doom? Can you shout for yourself when you do something cool like die? Of course dying is cool. O... e-except for that whole y’know... dying thing. Wait. Stop. Cease! Deceased! One of those things is not like the others! I think that “y’know” is kind of weird and ugly. Why did I use it you may ask, but I don’t care what you ask so I will not tell you. I keep typing “ou” when I mean to type “you”. It’s annoying! I’ve decided to try and stop cursing so much. Why? BECAUSETHEPEOPLEINMYHEADTELLMETO!
Ok?

Happy?

I know I am but that’s unrelated. I’m always happy. It’s kind of scary sometimes. Especially when I’m sad. I have this sense of joy in my sorrow. It is confusing. It makes sorrow hard to pinpoint until I no longer feel it. At least I’m always happy. Unhappy people make me sad. But not so much that I stop being happy. I am happy in my unhappiness. Ok that’s enough of that line of thought! Rats are big when they are gigantic. Don’t you know this is true or else I wouldn’t say it? Or would I? I have said untruths before. I will do so again. Unless I don’t. Which would make the sentence two sentences ago a lie. Making it an untruth. Making the sentence four sentences ago a truth. Wait. But then it is an untruth and a truth. Making it a many as opposed to a one. But if it’s true then it is a lie. And if it is a lie it’s a truth. So it oscillates between truth and untruth. So it is never a truth and an untruth at the.... time... Ok, you get it. If not... you write the rest. I have cooler things to talk about. Like... Socks! And... Pie! Socks have glory. OR at least mine do. I don’t know about your lame socks. They probably haven’t even fought on the battlefields of old. Mine haven’t either but still. They would have kicked ass if they had been there. Or at least nipples. Or at least in the general area of nipples. Such as the ass. That’s a pretty general area but whatever. You general area contains the people around you. So you can say you got stabbed in you general area when a guy two blocks away got stabbed. Wow, a lot of people have been stabbed in their general area. That’s awesome. Being stabbed hurts a lot less than I thought it would. So does getting shot.

O! Right! Pie! Pie sucks. Or more correctly it doesn’t. I just like saying that. But I don’t really ever say it. It’s just something to write. That being: “I don’t like Pie.” Which isn’t even true. I like Pumpkin pie. That sentence just hits me in the right place. Like your mom. Not “your mom” as in the person that birthed you. “Your mom” as in the general phrase that I have overused. Y’know your mom, like your face. Same thing.

Stupid face. Not to imply that your face is stupid than the rest of you. I think your but smells. Whiz is worse?

Slime is...

Slime has this slick, slippery, I don’t know... slimy nature. Yea, that’s definitely right. Even if it says nothing. Can anything really be correct without being redundant? Just because something isn’t necessarily correct doesn’t mean that it can’t make sense. Just because something makes sense doesn’t mean it can’t be silly. You can make fun of anything you understand. But it’s important to try and get some sense of understanding before you try to make fun of something. The same is true for like versus dislike. Until you have made a serious attempt to understand something, and get at least some general idea of what the nature of the thing is, you haven’t earned the right to make fun of it. It’s important to not prejudge, and be open to everything. If you’re not going to go into something with an open mind, you might as well not go in at all. You can expectations, and ideas, but since these are not based on an exposure to something you must be completely willing to be disproved. A general desire to be surprised, but not expecting to be, can be helpful sometimes. Surprises don’t really work if they are expected. Accepting that some things just don’t make sense can be important, but it mustn’t become an overused excuse for not examining things clearly. Some things that do not make sense can still feel right. Paradoxes sometimes are much better at explaining the nature of the universe than sentences that are correct and make sense. Why should we assume that we could create a sentence to describe nature that works in the same way our brains normally do. Our brains can’t normally understand nature. Shouldn’t the best way to gain knowledge be to look at the world in a new way? But we shouldn’t overdo it. Just as we can’t always rely on our normal way of thinking, nor can we completely ignore that way of thinking. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Balance is the key. Balance; not equilibrium. If you say equilibrium I will stab you. Equilibrium has to do with rest. The last thing we need is to keep our minds at rest. Sometimes following one way of thinking to its end can be very helpful, but only if you can abandon it when the time comes. Too often we caught up with our own ideas, and approaches that we become stagnant. This argument could become the exact thing it is warning against very easily. Following any kind of doctrine or ideology will inevitably leave you trapped (but possibly not [but most likely yes]) .

Dammit. I kind of want to continue but I’ve out thought myself. I realized that this argument has become exactly what it warns against. I find that ironic, funny, and makes me believe in it even more. But I can never follow something absolutely. Even if I do sometimes.

I think the world broke

I think the world broke. It might be my fault. But I’m gonna blame you. Why? Because you’re there and it was easy. Huh? That was past tense you say? O, so it was. I guess I already framed you. Sorry I couldn’t inform you in advance. But then you could have done something about it. Now it’s too late. And you can’t fix it. Because the world is broken. You might have had a chance to prove yourself innocent if the world worked. But it doesn’t. Though I’m not so sure it ever did work right.
I see you’ve been shot in the chest. Sucks to be you. Well I’m off.
4 hours is a long time to wait in a bus station. This is my punishment for sleeping. Serves me right. Who in their right mind would try to sleep? Everyone! O... that’s not what I meant. Even though it’s true! No! I didn’t mean that either. What is wrong with me? Why do I keep telling the truth? I must be defective. I need to rectify this situation. How can I enlighten the people if I can’t lie?
Through song and dance! Or not!
I choose or not. I don’t dance, or sing, much less both and the same time. I would need to hire people to sing and dance for me, but I just don’t have the funds. Even if I did have the funds I wouldn’t do it anyway. I would hire people, but not to sing and dance. I would hire them as my personal army of justice. Tacking justice onto the end there will keep people from looking into what my army would actually do. Such as rape everything in a 10 mile radius. Not just people either. Not just living creatures either. Not just dead creatures either. Inanimate objects. Such as duffle bags. The atrocities my army of justice would commit if they existed make my soul cry. ‘Cause it would be raped if the army of justice existed. Well.. Then my soul would also have to exit. Which it doesn’t. Kind of puts a hamper on my statement trying to express remorse at something I never actually created.
Ah, remorse... Such a... um... remorseful feeling. Yea, that works. Or does it? No not really. That sentence makes me so angrily angry. In response I shall creately create a newly new sentencely sentence that shall be sensibly sensible: I don’t like pie.

I can talk.

I can talk. Can’t you? I doubt it. If you could then your lungs would have to work. But they don’t. I know. Don’t you worry about how I know. I am all knowing. You can’t know more than me. Even if you were all knowing I would know it plus one. So you see I’m cooler than you could ever possibly be. I am the definition of cool. Any other definition of cool sucks. I hate being cool. It sucks. Such a worthless thing to be. I like being myself. So I am not cool. But I am the definition of cool. Therefore coolness doesn’t exist. If it did your face would explode in a gewy mess. Yuck. That would be messy. And sticky. I don’t like messy sticky things. They taste bad. You know bad. That which is not me. I am not sticky or gewy. Therefore I rock. Rocking rocks so rockingly hard. Don’t you rockingly think so too? I know I do. ‘Cause it is true. I only speak truth. What emanates from my mouth is truth. You’ve been searching for it I assume. Well no you’ve found it. Now you can go kill yourself. Please go and do your business elsewhere. I don’t want feces on my cool shoes. Only cool shoes are cool. Unlike your face. Your face is not a pair of cool shoes. Maybe I should combine them. Awesomeness and fugliness. Combined they unmake reality. Wouldn’t that be sweet. Or not. Prolly not. But it could be a neat idea if I never thought about it. Or before I thought about it. It’s too late now. I thought about it. Dammit! That sucks. That idea rocked before I had it. Now it’s just stupid. Like pineapple. Why would anyone want pines on their apple. I prefer my apples pine free. Pines hurt when they prick your mouth. And then you start to bleed. And then you keep pricking yourself. You know, to make sure it wasn’t a freak accident. And then more and more freak holes keep opening on your face. Until you pass out from blood loss. Then it stops. ‘Cause everything is always good as new after a little rest.
Then you wake up and start floating. Floating towards the bright light. Soaring. Soaring high! Higher than you every got on acid. You know that time you poured Hydrofluoric acid down your shirt. That was a good idea. But someone pulled you away from the light and you woke up with heavy scarring on your chest. In the hospital. Chained to the bed. That hurt. Why did that jerk pull me back? And why did he try to tear out everything in my chest cavity. He must have been greedy. Greedy for extra organs. He already has 3 hearts 5 Livers and 80 kidneys. Why does he need more? He doesn’t. He’s just a jerk. You hear that jerk? That jerk is such a jerk.
Back to soaring. Soaring on high. Then high’s mother calls him to dinner and you have to stop soaring. Then you feel unloved and alone. And you climb under a car and start crying.
The sharp pain in your arm wakes you up from your nap. I hate being waken up with a sharp pain in my arm. Like when it falls off from lack of circulation. Or when a car severs it from your body. That hurts a lot more actually. A lot more. Ow. Wow. That was really painful. At least that can’t happen again. Now that I have no arms. Ah, life is so sweet to me.
Back to the light. Walk into the light. That leads to a burning feeling. The light is kind of hot. Kind of really hot. Really, really hot. This isn’t fun anymore. This is un-fun. Having your blood boiled out of you is just... ow. I can’t describe how mad this makes me. Who would go to the trouble to burn the blood out of my body. O, right jerks. I hate them so much. Them and you. I hate you. You suck. And blow. Like a crappy vacuum cleaner.
I’m dead now. This is boring. Kind of like not being alive. Pretty lame. Yea. Lame. That’s enough of that.
I decided that being dead was boring so I’m gonna stop now.

The pumpkin.

There is a pumpkin. He is a happy pumpkin. Won’t you shake his hand? He won’t bite. He’s orange, how could something orange be evil? It couldn’t that’s how. Pumpkins are a peaceful race of peace loving pacifists. They would never hurt you. Ever. Not they wouldn’t enjoy it. I’m sure anyone would enjoy killing you. I know I would. Except pumpkins. Pumpkins wouldn’t enjoy killing you, despite my previous claim to the contrary.
Did I mention that I recently came into a large sum of money? No it had nothing to do with pumpkins. What are you talking about? That’s ludicrous. Why would I take money from pumpkins? Just because I love money? Just because money is the only way for me to get an erection? Just because money gives false happiness to my sad bleak life? Well that’s not it. I found this money underneath the stairs. No, it wasn’t someone else’s. How do I know? Because it’s mine. Any looser who claims otherwise is a filthy liar. And a rapist. How do I know about the recent sting of rapes that haven’t been reported? Because I’m l33t. Don’t you wish you were?
There seems to be a dead body in my house. I wonder how that got there. Maybe you should dispose of this. What? No, I don’t know how it got here. No, I didn’t kill her. You did. That’s right you filthy murderer. That’s right, feel sorry for yourself bitch. Now clean up this mess before I kill you too.
No, that wasn’t a threat. No, that isn’t a knife in your skull. No, everything does not smell like urine. O, wait yes, yes it does. You lost control of your bladder. Yes, it is embarrassing. You should clean that up. Please don’t take a dump in your pants. I would have to burn this building to the ground if you do.
What officer? No, I don’t live here. Why would I live here? No, I haven’t seen anyone around in a while. Those are all my cars. No, it’s not weird around here. I’m crazy in case you haven’t noticed.
Racing lunatic sounds cool. Maybe I’ll be one of those. But I’m lazy, so I won’t. What would you do if you were god-like? Fight with other god-like beings. Good answer. I would hope so. Why? Well since you are writing this you’d think that you’d at least stay ‘til the end. What you’re not writing this? That’s weird. So then who are you. I am like you. You rape goats, fish, small children and snow. Poor snow. I feel bad sometimes. You know, for eating and defecting on it. But, O well. Those who were to fooling.
I think your doe died.

What could be more fun?

What could be more fun than being stabbed in the chest?
Not being stabbed in the chest.
But how could you be defined as living without dying?
The fact that I am clearly alive.
Are you sure you’re alive?
Yes.
Not anymore!

The fire sprinkled death over the marsh. Maniacal laughter could be heard in the distance. The water evaporated in the wake of the fire. Smoke filled the air. My carcass was charred. It was more like an unintelligible pile of charcoal. I think some starving artist stole most of my remains. That was a bad day.

“Mmm, splattered guts! Food always tastes better when you’ve run it over yourself.” He licked the last of the skunk off the pavement. Though half of it was on his face and shirt. He smacked his lips and walked over to the nearby car. He opened the rear door of the police car. The naked cop was shaking on the far side. He grabbed the cop, pulled him out, then threw him off the bridge. The body sailed through the air. The cop landed softly on a field of down comforters. Or so he hoped. Instead he tore through the air at a supernatural speed. The air also tore some slits in him. The ground impaled him through his belly button. He was quite embarrassed. With his act as a living being, he took a nice satisfying dump. It was quite a relief.

The flow of the red river tickled the psychotic. He was giggling uncontrollably. Tears welled up in his eyes. He was so happy. This was going to be the happiest day of his life.

There you are psycho!
Giggling on ground.
Hey jerk, I’m talking to you.
Bust of laughter.
This is it buddy. You final punishment. You dare confront a... Where do you think you’re going?

He looked absolutely giddy. He had gotten up, and was walking away from me. He stopped in the middle of the bridge. He turned and grinning shouted “cozy” in a very high pitched squeak. I reeled from the noise. When I looked up, he was gone.

After vomiting in the bushes. I left that scene. The expression on his face had violated my mind. I felt soiled. Not existing seemed like a positive alternative for the first time. I couldn’t even take revenge.

Beneath the bridge the psycho stared up. With his unnatural grin, it was clear he had enjoyed himself. One would think that being impaled by a large rock wouldn’t be fun. Never before had someone killed themselves for a lark.