Dear Journal:

I would love to just slit my wrist. The only thing around me is death, disease, famine, heartbreak, and heartache. What is there to live for? There is nothing left in my world. Everything has crumbled. I hold nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing with no purpose or reason for being here.

I'm really angry with Gram. All she's been doing is bitching. She won't shut the fuck up. "Why are you smoking in my house?" Uh, duh! Because I have been for like 7 months. Jesus Christ you're driving me fucking raving mad! I wanna take your heart out and feed it to you.

It would be fun to torture an InDuhvidual. It really would. I'd start with slight electrical impulses applied to tender areas of the body. Of course I wound use some conductive lubricant so as to not burn the skin, only just send the electrical pulse to the piece of shit. I want to kill people. Mass murder. I want to commit genocide - all idiots and stupid people would die. Niggers, spics, wetbacks, guidos, camel jockies, chinks, pot heads, red necks, police, adults that think they're hot shit but they really aren't, .... just anybody that gets in the way. We must procreate and rid ourselves of InDuhviduals. We must over-rule the entire world, creating one vast empire. An empire of those of whom really matter. A very small and select few to rule and destroy anything of desire.

This is pathetic. Maybe I should check myself into a fucking mental hospital. A cry for help? An attempt to progress through this pathetic life? Who fucking knows...who fucking cares.