oh, vanity...

I added a site meter to this page. Extremely stupid of me. I can only think of two people who might read this. And even if they do it'll only be once in a while. So this site meter will only serve to prove the fact that no one reads this. I'm pretty sure that I'll remove it in a week's time or so. It'll get too depressing seeing the 0 0 0 0 0 0 amount of visitors. Without a counter I can at least imagine someone cares. But whatever. We all want attention, though. Otherwise why would be make a diary on the net? What would be the point if no one ever read it? We all wanna shine like tiny little stars in the night sky. I wanna burn and fade. Or just explode. What's the matter? what's the difference? you'll feel better, if you lie, with the stars in your eyes. Blah blah blah. I guess there's a reason why it'll be 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 visitors......

Hey, speaking of visitors... you guys all realize that my "signature" at the bottom is a link, right? To my website. It's not much but... it really needs people signing the guestbook, hint hint.

I'm just a killer for your love

And speaking of my well designed, beautifully laid out, shiny website... I got to spend a couple of hours working around yahoo's stupid tricks. Apparently they've changed the way their counter works. And they didn't feel it was necessary to tell anyone. Not me anyways. But I managed to fix it. Good for me. I also added a hitbox thingie because I thought my yahoo counter was dead. Turns out to be a waste of time. But hey, the more counters the better. It's all about the hits. Hit me baby one more time! Ha, that was funny, wasn't it? I laughed.

Well, I was able to breathe last night which I felt was a plus. Even managed to sleep. And I think I'm starting to get better. About time. I'd have to consider going to the doctor if I wasn't getting better. But I can't go to the doctor. That's not an option. It's hard enough concealing scars around the house, I don't wanna risk the doctorguy seeing them. And if I go to the doctor there's also the danger of ripping up the whole medication-I'm-supposed-to-start-taking-against-depresion-or-whatever. And I'm sure you can appreciate that I don't wanna take the chance of actually improving my life. That would be too scary. Better to stay on the sinking ship until I drown. No matter where you drown, we can still hear you when you scream. All those yesterdays...coming down. I don't like the drugs but the drugs like me.' WE LOVE YOU

oh the pain, the pain of it all. I hope I never ever feel better. I prefer the self pity. The whining. The patethic way I carry myself.

Apparently there's 2 days till the European Music Awards. And I don't care. Somebody blow up mtv. eMpTyVee

I've decided to keep updating every day even though I have nothing to say. Since virtually no one reads it it's not like I really bug anybody. And when I say that virtually no one reads this I'm not being all coy and asking for my thousands of readers to tell me I'm wrong. I'm being serious. (but of course you can still sign my analyzer... I won't hate you). So where was I going with this? I don't know. But if you don't like it just leave me. You won't be missing much. Only the secret of life. I'm planning to make a 72-part essay on it.

Here's part 1:
Get bent.
The End

I'm in a pissy mood.

What what what

the the the

fuck fuck fuck

is is is

going on going on going on

what the fuck is going on what the fuck is going on what the fuck is going on

oooooooooooooooooooooooh

and you might ask yourself

who the fuck is that idiot writing that diary?

and you might ask yourself

why the fuck should I care?

once in a lifetime...

same as it ever was

I apologize for this hostile mood. I don't mean it, I really love you all. Every single person who ever takes the time to read just one word of what I write. You're the reason I'm alive. I love you forever.

g'night, my secret lovers.

NP: Pumpkins - Stand Inside Your Love (I will breathe for the both of us, travel the world, traverse the skies, your home is here within my heart)

...I should know, The lame, And the droll have needs, To let their feelings show...