You know what? people hate me. they do. they fucking hate me and i hate them right back. well, sometimes i’ll pussyfoot around by saying, “yah well, they aren’t giving me the benefit of the doubt, they have a suburban mindset, they watch too much wrestling…” no. i hate them. i’m pretty fucking tired of trying to justify my cause to everyone so i’ve decided to stop. if you’re too stupid to see the irony in the things i write about along with the pictures i post then just get lost. i’m not trying to manipulate you and i don’t expect to rise to stardom by having pervs pull their dinks to my photos. yes i am rude. yes i am offensive. yes i will insult you within three minutes having met you and your boring friends, but i won’t do it purposely. well maybe sometimes. i’m not a wacky 19 year old who wears a big ironic tie over my tank top and big skate shoes and i don’t say big controversial things to get a rise out of you.
i just say what i think, when i think it, all the time. and i won’t lie to you.
i don’t care about your shoes or your friend’s band and i probably don’t read your website anymore. i don’t see the importance of reading the newspaper or watching the news or paying attention to politics. i will not commit myself to seeking out independent music groups and paying attention to trends. if i wear something that might appear to be “trendy” i’ve most likely been wearing it for awhile or it was a gift.
i make racial slurs, i take my clothes off and i’ll pull faces at you behind your back if you’re a cunt to me.
i am financially independent and have been since i was fifteen. this means, i pay for my own bills and rent and food and cabs and everything. i don’t even have a fucking credit card. when something gets stolen i replace it. no matter how expensive.
and i do not blame my actions on depression. ever. i’ve only ever admitted to the possibility of being a “depressed person” as of one year ago and it feels weird. so ridiculously weird that to this day i make up excuses for myself and my actions, anything but oh yah, maybe i did that ’cause i’m hypo-manic and i don’t care anymore.
i was ashamed of being sad.
i was ashamed of being paralyzed on my bedroom floor listening, to NIRVANA tapes for three years.
i didn’t travel around the world just to come back to this city and be faced with high school dramas.
i graduated a year ahead of everyone else to get away from everyone else. i was a valedictorian, i studied dance for ten years, i was a cheerleader, i got 30 year olds to take me seriously, i studied journalism at both Oxford and Imperial College in London at the age of seventeen, i was the sole office support, assistant to the editor and manager of the circulation’s department of a very well-known women’s publication for 7 months also at the age of seventeen and then i said fuck you to everyone and flew to cunty New York City to bartend and kind of intern for a soon-to-be selling out magazine and then i lived in buttfuck New England and had a radio show and then after realising i am crazily depressed i flew back to the ‘burbs, slaved for two months and saved money admist a pretty nasty (and still going on) separation between my parents and moved myself to Toronto in-where i have convinced, with my smartyness of course, a moneybags to help fund my retardo projects all the while battling this stumbling block of what you call “depression.” i have one-hundred pages of a book i keep staring at and wonder, “will people really like this?” and everyday i get closer and closer to being twenty years old and i think if this isn’t published by the time i am twenty, no one will care.
i have earned my seat at the fucking table. what have you ever done?
i really don’t care for this little scene of followers. i learned all about that in grade 6. people pay too close attention to gossip in these parts. have you ever met me? have you ever heard me speak?
christmas is gay. but thanks anyway.
ps – to those snickering at my recent drugging incident, it’s not a matter to be taken so lightly, despite my own indifference. yes, it’s pretty fitting that some little hussy who boasts of being naked a lot and even posts saucy pictures of such nekkedness, have her drink tainted and become so looped that she may possbily be taken advantage of. i’ll have you know, i was in a kitchen and i was with people i did not know and for whom did not know me and/or anything to do with being raymitheminx and a big whore. i was wearing dirtbaggy, regular clothes and i was not drunk and i was not in any way, “sexy” so therefore, i was not “asking for it.”
that is all for now.