Thomas

what am i supposed to write, what can i write? should i lie, should i tell the truth? does it even fucking matter...i could write about who i used to be or about how i want to be. im wondering if its smart of me to write anything.what the fuck defines a person.i have brain damage, shitty memory, horrible social skills, and an above average sized dick.i have bad hygiene, ive been wearing the same pants everyday for the past 3? years. without much effort you can view my ass as much of the fabric has worn away. outside im quiet, inside i scream untill i cant hear my own thoughts...ive got a fucking feild of pimples on my forehead, that i like to squish and mash.i experience pain like nothing most people can fucking fathom, the kind of pain that makes you vommit and your nuts shiver before it hits you. bone grinding against bone, nerve damage that sends long needles of steal through the most sensitive of areas.sometimes i feel like a giant wrecking ball, the anger and rage wells inside my stomach and flows up my spine through my arms and neck...my fists become heavy like lead, and i feel more alive and powerfull than im sure any man has ever felt. and im numb...mentally, and physically. and i laugh and smile as i think about grisely things.i like carving stone with a hammer...i like smashing a piece of stone, seeing it crumble away slowly at the veins, controling it, guiding it...rubbing it...smoothing it.im well manered and i masturbate. im a shutin, when i drive i blast angry music to keep me calm...anything else and i risk falling asleep or a road rage incident.i guess im as normal as anyone.