There Is No Word For The Recipient

I Feel The Universe Is Telling Me Something. And It Doesn't Even Matter If It's True Or Not. What Matters Is That I Feel It, And Believe It.

Isaac Knows How Stupid I Find These Things, And He Finds Them Just As Stupid As I Do. Like Lol. Now, If There's Anything Stupider Than Buddy Lists, It's Lol. If Anyone Ever Uses Lol With Me, I Rip My Computer Right Out Of The Wall And Smash It Over The Nearest Head. I Mean, It's Not Like Anyone's Laughing Out Loud About The Things They Lol. I Think It Should Be Spelled Loll, Like What A Lobotomized Person's Tongue Does. Loll. Loll. I Can't Think Any More. Loll. Loll!

It's Only A Game If There Is An Absence Of Meaning. And We've Already Gone Too Far For That.

All This Hoping For Something- Or Someone- That's Maybe Hopeless. I'm Having A Hard Time Processing What I Am Supposed To Believe, Or If I'm Even Supposed To. There Is Too Much Information, And I Don't Like A Lot Of It.

I Hate The Way You Talk To Me, And The Way You Cut Your Hair. I Hate The Way You Drive My Car. I Hate It When You Stare. I Hate Your Big Dumb Combat Boots, And The Way You Read My Mind. I Hate You So Much It Makes Me Sick; It Even Makes Me Rhyme. I Hate It, I Hate The Way You're Always Right. I Hate It When You Lie. I Hate It When You Make Me Laugh, Even Worse When You Make Me Cry. I Hate It When You're Not Around, And The Fact That You Didn't Call. But Mostly I Hate The Way I Don't Hate You. Not Even Close, Not Even A Little Bit, Not Even At All.