My Twitter Account Got Suspended

Got the email notification today. Funny part, of course, is that I've never had a Twitter account. But that did not seem to matter. According to the message, "Elon is butt hurt" over my not having an account and that he "takes it very personal [sic]" that I shun his platform and he is lodging a "formal protest." It went on to say he "cries himself to sleep at night" over my absence. Who knew? In a post script he begged, "You can criticize me all day long just so long as you don't say anything bad. Free speech forever!"

In related news, a man sauntered out of his lower middle class apartment today completely nude with full erection. As he began to masturbate in the parking lot, he declared he was making a protest. Of what, no one was exactly sure. Some said he must be protesting not having a girlfriend while others insisted he did have a girlfriend. Rumors abounded. The reactions of women who observed the event ranged from indifference to "my life is ruined."

In further protests, Russian army recruits turned on their officers and shot them dead. Every officer who insisted they keep shooting was shot until finally a few who were more rational realized it was in their best interest to keep their mouth shut. However, no generals nor the Russian leader survived the protest as they had been "all in" on killing. At that point the soldiers returned home and were never ordered to shoot again.

Lennon Through Looking Glass Diaries

It's just keeps getting worse. Round and round in me head, always back to where I started: Who am I?

The fucks are sending me to Bristol for certification. I'm only pretending to be a mechanic, ya clods. Aunt Mimi got wind of it and think it's great like it's going to cure all my ills instead of making me slit me wrists. I can't talk to her but she's all I got.

The lying is killing me. I'm going nowhere. Spending all me money on concerts which makes everyone think I'm a loser idiot. I know I should be saving towards something but what? Can never save enough to get out of these nightmare dead jobs. Everyone on me ass about making something of myself when all I want to do is dream.

I don't see a way out. God just needs to take me. Been running away since I was little, never facing up to nothing. That's not so bad if I'm really nothing. But when I close me eyes and put me head on the pillow, the universe comes out, more than I can ever say. Liars know no peace.

I can't shake this belief I should be up there on the stage with those rock gods. Guys at the shop would roast me if they found out my stubbornness. Girls only listen to me because they think I'm some wounded bird they can fix when I need someone like Yoko who drives me forward into life.

I'm always crushing on girls I can't have and when I kept going on about Yoko at the shop - me couldn't help it - one guy calls her "flavor of the month." See, I wouldn't have these problems if I was a big star selling songs to the world. I'm being punished for my bad decisions.

Sometimes in me most private of moments I sit on the docks and watch the ships come and go, circling a world I'll never see. Those faraway lands, what are they like? It's like a love that can't be seen, shrouded in impassible fog. These visions of a fool I can share with no one.

I want really twisted sex with girls who are bad for me. I don't want to know anything about me. I want them to despise me and spit on my face. That hot nurse Rachel who walks by every morning smoking her fag, I want her to flick her ashes in my mouth. How do I tell her that?

I swim in a sea of shame, music echoing in my ears. Is the tune good or bad? I use it as me therapy but to what end? Just to stay afloat in the middle of nowhere, no land on the horizon.

I get so lonely sometimes I even hate me rock and roll. That would never happen to a rock star.

One time I went down the street not thinking whistling one of my tunes. Couple of birds heard it and got excited, asking name of the song. How do I explain it's a song I never shared? I want no one to know what I've done to me life. Every time I think about being me...

To tell you the truth, what I should really do is just go away and never show my face again