Right now I would like the pain of another tattoo. Burning, cutting, breaking through. i am fantasizing about smacking a cut down my arm, and seeing the bright red blood. No I’m not in the habit of doing this. But at times like these it is a nice fantasy. Why? To release the fucking rage at this life, the frustration, the hurt, because I want an outlet for this emotion, and the stress, the anger, that has no fucking other outlet. Because I want to take this anger out somewhere, I am so sick of life’s games, and there is nowhere for me to get it out. denial, denial, denial, that is what life seems to like to offer me. What am I doing in this world? Don’t tell me I’m here to learn, and that its all for my good.