More mindless writing from me. Oh and this is rated T for a reason, language can get rather crude in this. Enjoy? :)

Yo, Heartbroken Confession doesn't own Gakuen Alice, gots it?

Failure to L.A.U.N.C.H.

As told by Andou Tsubasa.

"And shit, man, no one gives a fuck if all the girls wanted to jump your bones in high school."

--Heartbroken Confession--

You know what truly sucks balls? When you wake up in the morning and realize that you're 29. You're 29, you're single, and you live with your mom. You spent the "prime of your youth" with the TV, an occasional rum and coke, and mind-blowingly drunk nights with a few mates. Your first thought that morning? "Dude. I'm almost freaking thirty."

When you're at that point where you start thinking "I remember when I was in high school..." or maybe "Back in my university days...". Then you stop yourself halfway and you're surprised at how much you sound like your grandpa used to. Or maybe you're walking down the street and some half witted bloke runs into you and you yell at them. After they flip you off and keep going on what they're doing, you start mumbling to yourself about how "rude kids are these days." That's when you're in for the real bad news: You're turning into a rather shrewd old man (worse than you're boring, reminiscent grandfather).

Maybe back when you were 21 and at a club, you could seduce a girl with a mere five second glance. Well, guess what buddy? You ain't so forever 21 anymore. You're 29 and wondering where the hell your effortlessly obtained six pack disappeared to; or you could be wondering why in the world the star tattoo on your cheekbone girls used to dig suddenly looks like an unfortunately placed birthmark. If you stare at a girl for more than a second at a club, she'll probably go to the bouncer and report you a pedophile. The only girl in your life is your mother, and even she's trying to get you to pay rent. Hell, you can't blame her, you've been mooching off her for the last three decades.

I may be rambling like a cranky 80 year old but seriously. What happened to birthdays being the best day of the year next to Christmas? Oh, I know what happened. 29 years, being unemployed and chickless. Because no one gives a crap anymore that you were the most popular guy in school. And shit, man, no one gives a fuck if all the girls wanted to jump your bones in high school. All they care about these days are your credentials. You live in your mother's basement. What kind of credentials could you possibly give them?

What matters now is that you're finding a few strands of white hair and praying to God himself that you're suffering from a rare, hair pigment changing disease, rather than getting old. What matters is that running six miles and shooting half the goals in soccer isn't so much an effortless task (in fact, this sucks even more since I'm too old to even join any soccer teams) anymore.

It's puzzling how you even got here. Soccer star, school heartthrob, and boy genius. Face it: things were looking up. Well, guess what buddy? You fucked up. Your mind was set on the partying and the hot chicks. You failed to see the amazing (preferably red-headed) girl that loved you for more than what you looked like, right in front of you. You chose that crammer night before the final exam to go party with your drinking mates that seemed to have misplaced their brains (if they even had one to start with) somewhere.

Now you get to be punished for your idiotic choices and fuck-ups. You, my friend, are an official failure to launch.

Review? :)