Relativity

Yesterday I played a videogame called Grand Theft Auto. I enjoyed running over people, kids especially, and I made a point to specialize in extremely gruesome deaths. With baseball bats. I sometimes confuse reality with videogames, and I find myself using the super-option at the carwash quite often, since I can't seem to get the blood stains off the hood of my cab.

I listen to heavy metal music, death metal and melodic death metal in particular, because I need to unleash my otherwise uncontrollable and vile feeling of hate. It is a commonly known fact that heavy metal listeners have anger management problems. And we also worship Satan.

I also have repressed feelings of anxiety, panic and depression. To portray my overall feelings of horribleness, I write a blog, focused on insulting people I'm too scared to face. And being purposefully angstful while at it.

All clear signs of a manic-depressive youth with a passive-aggressive personality, the perfect candidate to be the next headlined psychopath.

Or not.

I'd spell out why, but I think my readers deserve to be insulted in more creative ways than telling them that perhaps stuff written on the Internet isn't always to be taken literally.