A thing called dropping.

Writer: Achu.

Sorry. Forgot I had to update this week, my head has been full of other things - I feel like I'm a little snail that is about to get hit by a roller, sooner or later. Mostly I'm stressed out because of the media, all this pr-shit I have to do, plus the extra energy I have to use to get rid of those creapy fans of ours.

There's a reason, why the media is suddenly so interested from us - srsly, I think the hype has grown much worse, and just because Clyde had to take that extra dose of drugs. And thanks to that, my dear bandmate is now lying at the intensive care, and cursing his ass off 'cause the chicky chicks of the hospital decided that she needs some cancelling or group-therapy or something, 'cause he seems to have some sort of addiction. And of course, the yellow press had to find this out, and thanks to them I just run everywhere, feel like my head is about to explode from all the shit that I read from the random magazines, plus, I have to stand all those fans who curse our band to the deep depths of Hell, just because one of us happens to have some problems with his tolerance.

Although, I usually enjoy being the pet of the press, honestly - what the fuck? Their thirst for knowledge is never-ending, and.... asegrbtryhujrtgrthtgb screw you all. One of my best pals is being forced to some fucking, brainless intensive care with a bunch of some brain-dead, idiotic assholes who only are interested of how great and huge some nurses' tits look like, and wank off as soon as they enter their little, white and plain hospital-rooms. I wish Clyde gets away soon, his mind will probably freak out if he has to stay in that God-forsaken place, where you just blabber away couple of minutes a day, take some pills and go back to your stupid little room and roll all over your fucking shitty-smelling bed covered in dirty blankets.

Short post but why should I care to write longer. At least I wrote more sentences than this blog has readers.

Unlike some others.

c ya later.