Sinful Wings

Okay, really?  Really?  Is there a scavenger hunt for a stupid book going on or something?  Another creepy-ass fucker attacked today, again with a creepy mask.  And again, with a gun.  But I take heart in knowing my bookstore isn't the only place being hit by stupid masked dumbasses with guns. All for some stupid ass book....really.  They could be civil.  Just walk in, look around, possibly find it, take it to the counter, hand the lady behind the counter two dollars, and leave. SIMPLE. Anyway, speaking of books, I found this weird one today.  Blank, though.  Showed it to Miss Jones and she didn't recall ever getting it.  Looks like a journal, though.  Maybe I'll draw in it when bored as hell at work. What else happened today?  Hm....Oh yeah, Mom has to go on a research expedition for some reason.  Said it was about finding a sample for some research.  Mom and Dad both work at this research institute called TRIAS. Timor Research Institute of Anomalous Subjects.  D

You know, maybe working at the bookstore isn't a bad thing.  You won't believe who actually visits the place. And you won't believe that someone actually tried to rob the place at gunpoint. I also learned that Kar also knows how to use car keys to maximum effect.  If the makers didn't want them used as weapons, they shouldn't have had points on them. Anyway, about the robbery today. It was stupid, really.  The masked creep literally stormed in, stuck a gun into the clerk's face, demanded to know where the Word of Philip, or Alex...fuck, I can't remember what the hell he was wanting.  He wanted a stupid book.  A book he could have literally bought.  For TWO DOLLARS.  Who is that fucking cheap over stupid ass books?  Really? Anyway, Kareena reamed the guy with her car keys before Royce tackled him and put him in a submission hold. I just stood there, looking pretty as this went down, because really.  Who robs a fucking bookstore for a BOOK? Next,

Well, apparently the bookstore is for all troubled teens like my stupid ass.  I met one of my fellow miscreants today and I feel like I met a kindred spirit.  Kareena's apparently in trouble for many muggings and many thefts and, like me, is having to do therapy to deal with her anger issues.  I think her Ma's to blame, because that woman is the most stupidest, most selfish bitch I ever heard open her fucking mouth.  Any money that Kar makes, that woman demands to have.  "For her rent."  Bitch, that is your daughter, what the fuck is stopping your stupid ass from getting a damn job?  Anyway, the book seller is a woman whose daughter I go to school with, which is okay, but we aren't friends.  We exist and we respect that.  Now, to the final person in the bookshop with Kar and me. Royce Bradshaw. He's cute, but he's definitely a no-nonsense, firmly with the law, sort.  Which is abit of a buzzkill, but at least we can talk to each other. Somewhat.

The job they want me to have?  Working at a fucking book store.  A FUCKING BOOK STORE!  Do you know how stupid that is?  Who reads books?  Nerds and pretentious fucks that think they're better than anybody else. "But hey!" they said, "At least it isn't a popular book store!" THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A POPULAR BOOK STORE!  It could be Barns and Nobles, and I bet it would have less than four people there and they would be looking at the DVD section. My God what decrepit building are they making me work at?  I won't know until tomorrow.  Mom, Dad, I know you're reading this, WHY A BOOK STORE?!  I know it's 'important' to teach me lessons about being an adult, but I feel like this is more an insult than an actual lesson.  Okay, fine, I'll do the stupid job, but don't expect me to enjoy or even care for it. 

Yay, more stupid writing.  I went to my therapist, listened to them coach me about physical exercise being great for my spine, listened to my parents drone about how these things needed to be done, (I don't think it helps, but I'm a stupid teen, what do I know?) and then told I needed to go to my parole officer tomorrow. Apparently they found a solution to me being a grouch:  A job. Look, I like getting money and all, but I can tell you right now, I hate being around people.  Especially ones that don't get that some people want space.  God, I hate those people.  Fuck you.  Fuck you for smiling like some vapid whore wasted on some fucking Heroine.  Whatever.  I'm done writing now.

Hi, my name's Kai, but you can call me whatever the fuck you want because I don't care.  I'm just writing this thing because my therapist thinks it'll help.  Oh yeah, writing down stupid thoughts makes me feel better already. Anyway, I know Mom and Dad are going to read this, so I guess this is really so my parents can see my mental state.  I think it's a shitty state, but I didn't want to move my brain there in the first place. Okay, no more beating around the bush.  I need a therapist to help me deal with my opioid addiction.  I'm told I'm doing good, but Goddamn it hurts sometimes.  And no, I'm not some loser on the internet living with his parents because he's too stupid and lazy to get a job.  I'm 16 years old, dealing with a back injury I had since I was 7. Parents and I were coming home from a school thing when a drunk driver forgot that red meant stop.  Mom said I was in a coma for about a week, and during that time, I had three