Cigarettes and Bad Coffee.

This boredom thing could prove quite productive for this diary. Lucky for you. Voyeurs all round the world not reading my diary are celebrating without knowing it.

A uni lecturer once said, "Everytime one of your friends succeed… Something inside of you dies a little".

A best-friend of mine got a well-deserved horizontal promotion and pay benefit at work. I was really happy for her until the devil-chip on and off my shoulder started biting at my ear lobe and muttering "Damn you people and your fucking happiness…".

I like to pet this little devil-chip of mine. Misery loves company. And hating the world makes many friends.

Wanna hate the world a little with me today? We can drink bad coffee and smoke our cigarettes that are killing us (too) slowly and snipe away at the skinny bitches at uni with bags too small to ever fit a book in them that walk past and secretly hope their boyfriends have small penises and that the eating disorder they have is chewing away at their vaginal elasticity.

Yes, that’s it. Just like that.

If I could breathe through my nose at the moment, a cigarette would be a fine idea.