Your roses smell like poopoopoo

Okay its official, i hate writing. I have about 15 pages to write on Free Will vs. Determinism, and guess what? I've spent about six fucking hours on the opening paragraph alone. Why? Because i'm an obsessive perfectionist freak who doesn't even write well enough to be an obsessive perfectionist freak in the first place. And my opening paragraph still sucks. Why? Cuz i spent so much fucking time on it that i can't even tell what sounds good or bad. So now i'm changing words here and there, then looking on the shit i changed 5 minutes later and changing it back, because it sounded better in the first place. So then I'm like, hmmm maybe i should just move on and just start the paper. But i don't know where to start, cuz its 15 pages worth of shit for chrissakes so i best as fuck start at the beginning, but i don't even know where the beginning would be because this is a pretty metafuckingphysical concept, so i just go back to fixing my fucked up first paragraph.

Okay i'm done bitching.

Hello people, how goes it? For me, it goes well. Lovely day. A bit on the chilly side, but lovely nonetheless. See this is me with absofuckinglutely nothing to say, so i'm gonna break my cardinal rule and post some lyrics to a song i like. BUT, before you stop reading, you little turd, i say you should read it, because it reads so utterly pessimistic, i love it.

--

Everyone's afraid of their own life.
If you could be anything you want, I bet you'd be disappointed. Am I right?
No one really knows the ones they love.
If you knew everything they thought, I bet you'd just wish they'd just shutup.
Well you were the dull sound of sharp math when you were alive.
Not ones gonna play the harp when you die.
And if I had a nickel for every damn dime I'd have half the time, do you mind?
....
It's hard to remember to live before you die.
It's hard to remember.
My mom's god is a woman and my mom she is a witch.
I fought this.
My hell comes from inside comes from inside myself.
Why fight this.
Everyone's afraid of their own life.
If you could be anything you want I bet you'd be disappointed.
am I right?

-Modest mouse, your life.