air(headed)for empty

I'm really not all that vapid. It is all the truth. Honesty shouldn't be forced or sugar coated. Hatred, true gritty and sick hatred, is a stranger to me. I wish you all the best, I hope you get all you deserve. Maybe you shouldn't smack the puddle with your paddle as much as you do. Do you hate me? You probably do. If so, delete me. I've said it before, I'm stating it now. In purple plainly. I don't hate you, never will. In fact, we probably could've been great friends. I know I've tried to not care about you and it hasn't worked, but obviously I must sicken you the same way I do everyone else. Just tell me bluntly. Just smack my face with it. "Just" by Radiohead is a good song. It reminds me of my daughter, but also of you. Also myself. Hell, maybe it applies to a little piece of everyone. Perhaps not, I know some people who wouldn't see it as so. It is definitely not stupid, though. If you don't want to know me, then don't read. Simple as that. You just do it to yourself. You do. I don't care if anyone reads this or doesn't read this. I don't care if anyone cares about all this. If it's here, hidden among the millions upon millions of binary gigabites of internet garbage, then Skylar won't be reading it. And that for me is enough. A paged and written journal isn't safe from her dowsing rod hands. And she reads well.