The world showed no compassion to me.

I feel like being an asshole.  Hell, what am I talking about, I am an asshole.  I have a caustic personality–but hey, isn’t that popular these days?  Aren’t cynicism and sarcasm fashionable now?  And angst, of course.  One cannot function without the existential angst.  “No one understands me…” “My life means nothing…” “Welcome to the abyssal chasm of my dreary existence…”  The ellipse has never seen such use as it sees now!  Certainly, it must be thrilled!  Of course, it seems to be one of the few forms of punctuation these children can be bothered with.  The ellipse is angsty, commas and periods are for the common-folk.  Proper spelling also seems to be a problem.  I know I took spelling up through the sixth grade, but it seems others were not so fortunate, because their posts border on unintelligible.

I was taught to write English, and English I shall write.

But back to my asshole-ism.  One could argue that, as a girl, I am really a bitch, but I like asshole better.  And I have an overblown ego.  But that’s to be expected, considering I am God-empress of the Universe, or just God for short.  Blasphemy is a hobby of mine, and I must admit myself fascinated with how much I can piss God off.  He’s a dick. 

God and I are having a disagreement.  He’s currently trying to make me believe in his existence, and I’m adamently refusing to cave.  I can’t shake the feeling that he’s forcing me to become this goody-goody person that I KNOW I would NEVER be willingly.  I am not a good person.  By choice, in fact, I am a bad person.  He doesn’t seem to really like that idea, though.  So we fight.  I feel almost priveleged, arguing with the creator of the universe.  I’m so fucking special.

I have work to do.