Don't Send Me Your Shitty Poetry.

So in other news i'm going to beat a dead horse and openly state that just because i wear glasses while at school and i read an occassional book does not mean i know 3rd year calculus nor do i necesarily know why your computer has blown up; so stop asking me motherfuckers!

wearing glasess does not mean i know anything about computers, shakespeare or the square root of e.

so stop asking!

When i went to L.A. two years ago i met this girl named Scarlett she was obessed with me, but i really wasn't interested, seeing as she reminded me of kelly obsorne. when i came back from L.A. she got my email address somehow i don't actually recall how, but anyway, she would send me large messages and i would limit my replies to 10 words or less, she would ask me question pertaining to math , english or anything assumming that i somehow cared. in hindsight it would have been much simplier for her to look up her questions in a dictionary than wait 2 days for my reply on how to spell onomatopia. anyway one day she decided to send me poetry that she was writing.

I couldn't resist, because it was shoved down my throat and it was hilarious. i have never read more terrible poetry. she was trying so depsterately hard to come off as a deep and misunderstood person when really she was just being ridiculous.

i thought i might post verbatum what she sent me because it's hilarious:

Letting this blade cut through the surface to these five blue vains, visable to the naked eye. knowing soon, this blade i take to my wrist will releave me for a quick moment, a quick second. Every drop of blood that has been shed from these vains is a drop for anger, a drop for sadness, a drop for happiness, and a drop for relife.

As i carve a heart into my arm, letting the blade carve deeper and deeper into my skin, slowly letting drops of warm blood trickle down my arm as i shed a tear for this heart i carve in my arm to remind me of the pain i suffered on my own terms with you. So what does this poor little carved heart have to stand for?

her understanding of poetry was that it must be about her taking her own life because thats all that poetry can be. She jsut didn't get it, she thought talking about death was somehow interesting when really it's unbeleivably unorginal.

and while i'll admit, i'm not as heartless nor as cruel as i come off on this wesbite and i understand that people do suffer from chemical imbalances in the brain, the fact remains that there are thousands of people sufferring from severe destruction on a regular basis, where entire families are wiped out within seconds of a bomb or tsnami, our problems here in North America with our cheating deadbeat boyfriends and 90% averages are bloodly ridiculous. they aren't worth you killing yourself so get over it.

don't send me your shitty poetry.