the moral of today's story, boys and girls, is that life can be pretty fucking hard. even without war, even without hunger. remember how grade seven seemed so hard in grade seven and now you look back and scoff? don't scoff, you asshole! grade seven is as hard to that grade sevener as any strife you've got going now. maybe this is my way of saying that the problems I had today will sound too itty bitty pathetic on paper. but add them up and you get a lump in your throat and a lousy feeling all day and a headache too boot. so fuck you, no. i won't tell. i won't be that reality tv contestant loser of a sucker that needs so badly to open my overcoat and reveal all that i've got exposed underneath. nope. won't do it. will just be annoyingly, angrily, bitterly vague. life can be hard. and you know what? i like about me that i don't have to lie about it. so maybe i couldn't smile at you on my walk home. so what? since when is true happiness measured in a smile? since when is true love measured in a kiss? since when is truth measured?