Happiness

Once in a while I Google the word happiness,  and I can tell you none of the things that come up are happiness.  Ever.

Nobody in Class understood the meaning of this. ^  My professor calls herself an Art historian and she can't even fucking identify Salvador Dali from Ernst.  Yet she can tell us all the world about the bullshit that Miro puts forth.  I like to hate because I like the way it makes me look,  a bad motherfucker.  I like to be depressed because I like the way it makes people react,  like I have some chip on my shoulder and am a self pitying Asshole.  I like to go insane because I know I will always have solidarity to rely on.  I like to promote myself so people think I am starting to become a cliche. 




Je n'aime pas ces choses ^