The Emo Post

I figured I’d do something a little different today and write something that reaches out to the kids and appeals to them on a level they can understand; ie, narcissistic and pretentious. So in an effort to appeal to this next generation of Goth, here’s something for you from the depths of an imagined MySpace hell:

WAAAAAAAAAAAH! NOOOOO ONE UNDERSTAAAAAAAAAAANDS MEEEEEE!!!!

Oh online friends out there in the great, digital void… you feel my pain, you know my pain, you ARE my pain… I could just cry thinking about the dark shreds of agony that tear my heart into fragments of crying misery one jagged breath at a time. In fact, I think I WILL cry.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!

I feel better.

Today was a horrible day. Just like yesterday. And last week. And last month. And last year, except for that one part where I finally sold my Playstation 2 for an original Nintendo Entertainment System with Duck Hunt, but other than that… anyway, today SUCKED. It was like this relentless fist that squeezed my soul until there was nothing left by bits of goo, like a spent tube of toothpaste, trust me it was AWFUL. I’m devastated. I’m destroyed. I’m nothing now and my pain has bottomless depths to it that can’t be comprehended by the world at large because it simply doesn’t have the room for this kind of Pain That Annihilates All.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Anyway… The pain that so consumes me is the fact that I’ve lost all the pictures I took of myself. How can I express my inviduality and quirky sense of self if I don’t have a picture showing the same haircut as 1 million other kids have, with my arm extended as I photograph myself in with the same moody expression and pose as those other millions of Emo kids? How am I supposed to be unique if I can’t add my standard issue look to the already growing pile?

I was so upset about this that I couldn’t even cut my wrists properly, it was terrible. Then some stupid African kid came running up to me screaming about how I shouldn’t hurt myself! Like, HELLO?! How you can you possibly understand my pain, you little refugee?! I mean, oh, boo hoo, you barely escaped with your life from a tribal war in Mogadishu and you watched your parents gunned down before your eyes and nearly died and starved to death in a miracle escape from your hellish environment, but you don’t understand what REAL PAIN is! Real pain is when you try to talk to the popular kids and they… they… IGNORE YOU…

WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

And then to top it all off, I got told off by my older sister, who used to be a Goth. Goth is kind of like Emo, but extremely lame, because they’re into all this depressing stuff like philosophy and art, and I lost all respect for Goths when I found that not only do they talk suicidal, they actually sometimes go and DO it. I mean, hello? YOU’RE ONLY SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT SUICIDE BECAUSE IT’S FUN AND COOL, NOT DO IT, MORON…

And I mean, they cut themselves wrong and everything! Once, my sister cut her arm lengthwise and opened up a major artery. Everyone knows you’re supposed to cut across, so you get lots and lots of attention that way and post the photos on MySpace, how LAME… I mean, what kind of idiot talks about how much they want to die and then… dies?! Only losers actually go through with what they say.

Speaking of which, I need to go now. There’s a girl I really like, so I need to get into a relationship with her, get her to dump me and then wail and rant about it while taking pictures of myself and cutting my wrists at parties! Oh my God, I love being sad, it’s so much fun!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!