I am funny. I'm not lying, ask just about anyone except for the people that hate my guts. Guts are a stupid body part to hate. They're not even technically a body part, they're just there. I am funny. I like sarcasm. I joke a lot. I call a lot of my friend's mothers faggots, and I call a lot of my friends bastard faggots and the like. I hate my friends, but not really. I am, in short, an asshole. I'm a horrible person. I don't care. You love me for it. I rule. I love you too, but I would love you more if you understood better. See, I am a humourous asshole. I use my dickedness for laughs, and people laugh when I verbally dick them. They love it, I love it, where's the problem? Ah yes, the problem lies within those who do not love it because they do not understand. I do not hate them. In fact, I love them in their innocence. They are like children, children that I don't hate (which is a rarity), and they do not understand sarcasm due to lack of exposure or something. I forgive them for this, and try to compensate by exposing them to lots of insults. I call them mean things in hopes of getting a rise out of them, but it doesn't work, they still don't understand. Aw poo. I feel bad sort of, but the only way I've ever learned to cope with sadness is to verbally dick the people I love some more because I was probably abused as a small child, I don't remember because kids have shitty memories. When I lash out with my cockassedness in their faces for a second time, chances are that they will take even more offense because I still have yet to explain that I am trying to be the good guy. I am trying to teach them the concept of joking. Poor them, they still don't quite catch on, and they hate me for it. Oh well. I tried.

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