Marsupials Are Cute and Cuddly, but not Opossums

DAV

I would like to write something cute and happy, but I can't. My writing comes all dark and brooding and emo and cheesy. Like that Cheetos Cheetah, sulking, skulking in a circle, in a black trenchcoat over droopy fur with tears sinking beneath those dark sunglasses.

That's what happens to me when I try to write sometimes.

Even the Cheetos commercials are describing their silly signature speedy as a more sadisdic and criminal character, bending the lines between crude and cruel. Maybe it's a sign of the times. Dark economic times. Tough, confusing times in my life, being that I'm 26, looking for a carreer. Looking for love. Looking around, but my eyesight gets worse every year.

I'll tell you what, I've never reached a time in my life that I wouldn't call tough or confusing. When I was a baby, my parents were always telling me not to do stuff. I didn't understand. Right and wrong were twisted, bizaar concepts based on some sort of jibberish about me not being the center of the universe. Whatever. Fun was always risky. Nothing made sense.
Then there was school. Socializing. Working with other people who, ironically, were just as irrational and uncomprehending as I was. It seems like a retarded system, suddenly. I reckon we'd all learn more if we went to school with adults rather than mean, stupid children, yea?
Then there's college. Suddenly, the stresses of high school are faded only enough ton introduce new fears and trials that involve the difficult metamorphosis from child to man, fairly late in life by hitorical standards.
And with every new stage of my life, I think things will finally become clearer and easier, but I am always wrong.
And I usually hold that I am always right.
So this is a confession you must both cherish and ignore.

In any event, where am I? I know I'm wallowing in misery, but where in the misery am I?
I can't tell. I think I'm about through it for right now. I feel kinda alright. Thanks for listening. I'm going to think about happy thoughts, like pretending I'm a pig and wallowing in mud and eating lots of soft, watery, overripe foods with fanatical gluttony before an orgasmic barbed wire back scratch.

Oh Yeah....................