I swear to the Almighty that Brad is killing me. Not physically, but he's eating away at my soul. It's so bad that I've fled my house to find solitude; I'm not running from the Idiot Brigade, I'm running from my good friend. I have yet to record my awesome weekend in my journal, because every time I'm about to start he knocks on my door. He never wants anything; he's just killing time so as to avoid working on his papers! We are rapidly approaching the point where I will have little choice but to scream, Fuck off, you monotonous son of a bitch! And this is the way I treat my friends. Seriously, though, I've been very fair here. If I don't want to be disturbed, I put a sign on my outer door saying as much. Yesterday, he violated the sign. That selfish fuck.