The Flies Continue Assaulting Me; Life Sucks.

The first group of maggots I see in the house, I'm going to throw up. They have to be coming from somewhere close, seeing as there are 37524783 of them always there to greet me with their God-awful buzzing that leaves me hearing it everywhere in a fit of extreme paranoia. I've been holed up in my room for who knows how long, hoping that they won't find me. The ones who have, of course, have met my wrath. Not of the Khan variety, of course. I am not a Trekkie.

PETA has yet to attack me. Remind me to not become President. Not that anyone would vote for me, since my main agenda would be to take over the world and take certain currently unattainable people as love slaves, and I have never been entirely subtle about those plans.

Anyway, life sucks. In fact, I'm resorting back to my teenage angst for a moment:

The wounds have scarred, yet I'm still bleeding
as if they were broken stitches,
torn by my constant struggles

...and you get the point. (I can be a better writer than this, I swear!)

I'm no longer feeling that optimistic, foolish excitement from the first couple posts because, as usual, plans never work out in my life. Ever.
Plus, I'm in raging bitch mode thanks to my hormones. See, those plans didn't work out either. I would have chosen to be a man, haha. Or both. More about that....some other time...or something.