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Fuck the format...here you go.

A Six Inch Tall Snowman In July | 1:09 AM

Let's not kid ourselves by guessing at questions we already know the answers to.

Wasting money, wasting time.
Now you're getting out of line.
Why the fuck won't you be my-eye-ine...

Let's not pretend that there's any other reason for me to be here. It's to talk to you, yeah you. You the one who is sitting there thinking, is he talking to me? Why on earth would he be talking to me? How does he even know I'm reading this? Holy shit. What if he really is talking to me? Yeah, that's right...YOU!

You who is wondering why you bother reading this at all, you who is wondering who the fuck this guy thinks he is. You who wonders if anyone is watching, well let me tell you, someone is always watching...hell, sometimes it's me.

Maybe you know me, maybe you don't. Maybe you have your own blog, maybe you don't. Maybe you're as fucked up as I am, maybe you're not. Doesn't matter. See I assume you're watching...because I know I am.

There's this thing I constantly think about when I'm with the people who are unlucky enough to be friends with me. I think, "Damn, what if this is the last time I ever see them?" And of course if I ever said that they would, almost to a person, reassure me it was not. But I know better. I do. I know things they might not I suppose. I also know it doesn't matter because until the day I die anyone I call a friend, no matter how often or how rarely I see them, will always be considered a friend by me.

I know. You were expecting something different from me this time around, I'm almost sorry to disappoint.



I'm like a six inch tall snowman in July...just barely hanging on.