I do write some awful shit.

You know that one, that guy,
The one who to you is the worst,
The one who somehow seems to live,
To let you know, you're cursed.

You surely shouldn't love him,
Atleast not the way you feel,
That part of him you used to love,
It is no longer real...


And you hang, waiting for that second,
Your lone single chance,
To kidnap him, capture him,
At the least obtain a glance.


You know, once he looked at you,
Forever lost, the same shallow way,
Staring at your photograph,
Longing day after day.

You didn't seem to love him then,
Or did you just not know,
That really, you loved him dearly,
Just wouldn't let it show.



Whatever happened to that smile,
Oh how the times have changed,
His personality altered,
His emotions disarranged.

That guy you used to know,
The boy who was a man to be,
Became, manipulative, two faced and using
Born again, chaotic prosperity.


Alas he might say hi,
As he walks on by,
Give you a smile, a wave, even chat,
But you'll never mean anything more to him,
Not when he's shagging that.



He never really loved you,
No-one ever will,
They all want that pretty girl,
Perched upon that pedastle.

See, this is what I don't like about it.

'I'd tap that',
Said Sid from his flat,
To his mate by the window,
Not far where he sat.

'You're not wrong there',
He blurted unaware,
That sweetcheeks could hear them,
Wind flicking her hair.

'She knows where it's at!
Like a neighbourhood cat.
Bet she goes with all them,
Back-Ally-Sally and that.'

'Nah man, d'ya think?
She doesn't look kink.
Looks more like one of those,
You know, pretty n pink.'

'Mate, she looks tough,
That short hair n stuff,
Look at them eyes,
She likes it rough.'

'Ooh there's a stare.'
'At that guy over there.'
'Err what she like him for?'
'Look at his hair!'

'Stupid, gay, twat.'
'Look how he's sat.'
'Lookin' in her eyes,
All romantic and that.'

'What's wrong with us?'
'I don't know Russ.'
'All we really want is,
A shag and some fuss!'

'Ah, who gives a shit?'
'Not me man, fuck it.'
'Anyways, found that girl otherday.'
'Aw mate, was she fit?'

'Nah, but she'll do for a bit...'

Is this really all women are good for?

Oh I'm sorry, was that complaining?

 Blogging. Used for; attention seeking, release of emotions, general complaints.


Hi, I'm a blogger. :) I'm irritatingly happy most of the time because there is nothing wrong with my stupidly perfect life. When I get sad, I like to let out all my emotions on my blog so that all of my blogger friends can comment with little nice things telling me what I want to hear and giving me all the attention that I want to make me feel better about my shallow, self-centered ego. Also, alike most human beings (especially teenage girls) when I feel upset I cry in front of people so that they give me love and attention and tell me how pretty I am even when I'm crying. I like boys a lot, but not the unfit ones. I hate men, they're such a load of pigs who don't give a shit about women. I have a dick, I like to fuck things with it...like you're mum!

 You know what. FUCK. YOU.

If there is one thing I can not stand it's bloggers. I know, the irony of this kills me too. It's the fact that some idiot one day thought, 'Oh what isn't there in the world? I know somewhere for people to tell others about their day.' As if anyone really gives a shit what some hormonal whiney 16 year old girl/ boy did in their shitty day. Being only 17 I know a fair few of these.
General complaints are as follows:

• I'm too fat.
• I'm never going to get laid.
• Nobody loves me.
• I don't think my dick is big enough.
• My boobs are more just nipples.
• That girl's fit. I'd fuck that.
• I want a nice boyfriend who'll treat me right.
• I want a fit bird who likes fucking. A lot.

You know what maybe if you weren't such all whiney bastards you might actually have these things. It's no wonder nobody loves you if you spend all your fucking time crying about it!

I too would love someone to love me, whom I could love back. If it weren't for the fact that I'm emotional incapable of love, we could have a sweet little romance, with disgraceful sex, just to keep him happy ofcourse (being female I have to pretend to be lovely and straight laced). Then we could have a shit load of kids because of his massive dick always bursting those darn condoms. Whilst we're at it, why don't we just go live in a fucking shoe!

If life was really like that, I sure as hell wouldn't want to live it.

Shit happens guys, I'm sorry but unless you're going to do something meaningful, artistic or funny about your complaints, you might aswell just go and do that watery, wet thing you do...what was called again? Oh yeah. Crying.

Generically Fucktarded.

Do you want the truth or a hot women jumping up and down in an invisible wet t-shirt competition?...Well, I can't give you either, but I have been told by medical professionals that I am infact a women, so we're part way there.

I was once sitting down in the media and languages computer area at college, with two people that I like to think are my friends but in reality probably don't really like me at all, discussing my general appearance, personality and why I am never going to get laid. We uncovered two words that sum up all of these things and decided that I'm just a generic fucktard. What is a 'generic fucktard'? I 'hear' you cry. Well it's a combination of; lesbian looks, short hair of ever changing colour, short stature, not really attractive in anyway, abnormally small feet and an inability to dress properly whilst also being emotionally and socially retarded. Yay.

Unfortunately, I'm just your average shit/weird/talented/misguided* (delete as you read) somewhat dyslexic 17 year A-Level student with falling grades and a desire to criticise everything I come across. I apologise in advance for my blogs being; rude, offensive, obnoxious, not to a high enough social standerd, mispelled and just generally a crock of shit. But hey, I'm not forcing you to read this. In all fairness if you have any problems with my writing, you should probably take that up with yourself, might sort out some of your 'unresolved issues' that people are telling me about all the time.

I seem to spend the majority of my time feeling inadequate and just generally not good enough for society. I then spend the rest of my time franctically trying to make my self feel better by doing the only thing I know, criticising everyone else, picking out their bad points and comparing my self. I also don't have any particular aims in life, shocking isn't it. Screw the 'when I grow up I want to be' crap, most days I feel like I've been alive for far to long anyway.

I've decided to create an account upon here to voice my unheard opinions. With the hope that even though nobody wants to hear them, someone will want to abuse their eyes in a way that their ears, they will not. Also with the disillusioned dream that one of these days someone might actually pay some atention to me and maybe love me. In all honesty though, my spanish teacher said that he likes the way that I write, he doesn't particularly appriciate me failing his subject, but he still likes the way that I write. He told me to remember him when I become a famous writer-I'll let you make your own cruel witty coments about that...So here is to you dear reader for having nothing better to do with your time than read my protentious gobshite. LP xx