Current mood: Pensive. Irate. Twitchy.
Current music: Institute - Bulletproof Skin.

This rant was provoked (mainly) by a large number of people I've have the misfortune of encountering on Furcadia. Stop reading here, if you're expecting a benevolent/caring post about candy flavoured sunshine and fluffy kittens with flowers growing out of their asses.

If only words could enscapulate my utter burning hate of the attention-seeking subculture (particularly of the teenage variety) online of those who profess to have "problems", or be "misunderstood".

For the love of God. Please. Remove keyboards from the hands of such cretins. Or break their wrists. Please?

Before any curious do-gooder/bleeding-heart shithead tries to take a shot at me for scrawling this entry, call me "insensitive" or variations of such, or claim to be offended by this slightly inarticulate outburst...nobody is forcing you to read this.

(You can click off this page, or perhaps carve your eyes out. Your own choice.)

I acknowledge the fact that not everybody's life is a bed of roses. There are those out there with real problems.
This "rant" is aimed toward those who have little else to do aside from saturate their life in melodrama and whine about it, in some desperate plea for attention - in the process, wasting the time and energy of good-hearted people. Try doing something constructive with that insatiable hunger for attention. Get a career in acting.

Their pure ignorance frustrates me more than anything. If it's attention they want, then try being happy. I'd stake my life on the fact that a smile will draw far more attention than a whingy LiveJournal/MySpace blog post.