Paranoia seeks its victims. This is bad news, for I've lost my    head again. Even the faint at heart are babbling catch    phrases. Oh god, someone deafen me for interest has been    exploited. We are saturated in soap opera stricken prose.    Beware! I have a disease where borderline intolerance fucks    lethargy in rhythmic fashion. You will find me knee deep in    regret with a bottle and a bruise reciting tired quotes (oh    babe, you've got a lot to lose) and tragic tales. We're not    dead enough to matter, yet not alive enough to care. I've lost    my head again. I should have seen this one coming. I'm    having a hard time believing these are the best years of my    life. This is a revolution of lethargy (and pre-determined    anxiety attacks.) Awkward fingers push tired pens through    desperate acts of terminal illness. This is bad news, for I've    lost my head again.