Let's go MeeMeez

It's sanjini in the freaking asa dude, and watashi wa yon hon biru o nomimashta. Nihongo o kakiru koto wa dekimasen. Or can I? I don't know, it's a mystery to me.Ima, I have nothing of value to contribute, demo watashi wa kaite imas anyways. Probably because i want something to do while i chain smoke. Chain smoking alone is so sad, but with imaginary audiences, a bit better. Maybe if i told a story, what i am doing would sound more legitimate. Too legit, too legit to quit, byotch. Maybe discussing the day I punched a cat off the wall while running from the car? Or perhaps the time my mom sat on me and peed? No, wait, i bet the repetitive nightmares of floating up onto the ceiling and being pulled towards the door is much more meaningful. Ain't nothing meaningful here, slut. Okay, fine, how about the hours i would spend walking across the schoolyard stepping on bees, with injuries so slight, holding by wings, into a plastic jar? No? Still nothing? Fine, maybe descriptions of the softest sand in the world can satisfy. Children's village was no laughing matter, friend. There, i was the loneliest i've ever been. That was the day i was stung by the bee. But i wasn't collecting at the time, i bet they sensed that. I was making soft sand. How does one collect soft sand? Well, you pour sand onto your corduroy pants, and pat the edges until the rocks fall down. What is left is soft sand. You put it into a ziplock bag. You make alot, and bring it home, stashing it under your bed. Soft sand might be valuable to someone, someday. Kumquats are also collectable items, just make sure that you don't forget about the ones at the bottom of your backpack, or else they might tease you for smelling of rotting citrus.
Don't lose your jacket, kid, don't lose your pail. That shit cost money, you know.
Let's go other places. Let's go back to days ago, i was felt it then too. I wasn't in warzone, there were no alarms. I was just in bed, asleep, dreaming. I was awoken, and i love, and i'm a bad lover. Shame on me. I'd apologize if i meant it, but i didn't. I was innocent that time. So innocent, i swear.
What about standing in line to be checked for head lice, for the bookmobile, for the hearing tests? SRAs anyone? I was so obvious at that time. So eager to please the computer programs. They gauge intelligence, you know. Ya, you know. What about the day i did the bad thing? The day i started a trouble i couldn't control? And that night i screamed to angry songs? Everyone pretended not to hear. I hoped they would do just that. How about the day i read that thing that made me want to hurt the one i thought i loved? But that's just too similar to the night my dad snuck in to say goodnight, i was a sneaky bitch even then. I pretended to be sunken down in the corner, i pretended to be dead. It was just divorce, not war, no funny business. That's not that bad. What about the hotels, the pools, McDonalds? What about Rosewood park? No, still not worthy. Okay, then how about the treehouse, the bonfire, headlights, poison, the moon? How about mid-day naps when it is warm and safe? What about the sunken cheeks, Walden in the bedroom, and Alton in the garage? Morphine? Vicodin? Tequila? Soundgarden? No, too juvenile. Fine, then, I'll tell about Our Lady of Assumption, she had the best, biggest burritos in town. Traci knows, doesn't see. I was not part of the riot, i was so new. I always learned to go from scapegoat to clown college. I think that is where i belong, the circus.