Rant

I have become awash with hypocrisy.
Drunk with delusion.
Am I really better than you? Am I happier? Am I living the American Dream?
Hardly.
Angry, that's what I am.
Why so angry?
Angry at you and your stupid ideals, your happy life, your brisk walk,
your smile.
Wipe that smile off your face.
How can you be mad at a stranger?
I peer at everyone, anyone...I have judged your life and character in one single glance.
I am usually pretty accurate.

Currently unable to form complete sentences, able only to mumble babbling platitudes.
Looking deep , I look for signs of life, for love...
I find no pink, red, or orange to speak of.
It is a vacuum, a void of space.
Can color exist in a vacuum?
Hardly.
The soul is void, empty.
Sucked out by the leeches, I have let break down the wall.
Have I saved a bit for myself..I was always good at savoring the last bit.

the bit I saved...shit! It's too moldy.

Oh Lordy!

Where to begin? How does one start blogging? I feel pressured to scribble down thoughts a-la-grandiose, but my gyri are not programed for such outpourings. In fact, I have just spent the last two minutes pushing my cuticles back, instead of typing. This brings grave concern to the longevity and dedication I can muster for this exercise. hmm.
So, why am I here?
Why would you want to read this?

My answer is simple, concise, and loaded with grumbling. (yes, a bit like myself)
I needed some where to vent. People sicken me; the people as a populace, that is. Simple-minded beasts wrapped in jesus' fur. I am constantly disgusted and alarmed by our doltish brethern. I have little tolerance for optimism, so after a while I thought the surprise would decrease. Not so, my babies.
My purpose for writing? I shall try to relay an incredulous but valid event that occurs during the waking hours. Will it shock and surprise you? How the hell should I know...

Today...
Background: The patient is 19 and on her second pregnancy. We have each patient fill out an information/contact paper to put with their file. On the marital status line, there are two choices...Married or Single. (only two choices, mind you)
Incident: She wrote...Ingaged.

Fucking Brilliant! I feel sick.

So, there it is friends. Tune in for our next adventure! (I'm sure you won't have to wait long!)