I was sitting here trying to think of something to say, something from my mind, something witty, that would please "the crowds".
Then it occurred to me: What fucking crowds?
Blogs are diaries for hopeful attention whores. Bloggers would like to believe that people are looking at their thoughts– absorbing them into themselves, as if they were meaningful substance.
Sorry, special kid. you're not special. In fact, the only special thing about you is your less-than-perfect physical attributes. 
I am a special man. No one reads my blog. I am all the hits. I actually waste time coming up with clever things to say (that aren't clever) and write them down for everyone to see.
Want to know a secret? I'm smart.
Damn right. See, I'm not exactly who I seem, here. That's so nonexistant people can't look at my blog, and say "Oh, what a douche bag. I can't believe he thinks that's deep." Because it is not deep. None of the shit on this blog is deep. And I probably don't even think it ever again.

Fuck you, I don't care. I was reading self-reliance, because I missed it. I love this quote:

With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — 'Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.' — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood. 

I bet I raped it's meaning by placing it sorely out of context.