We spend all of our lives, pretending to like the people around us, afraid that we’ll end up alone and bitter. Upset, angry, unpleasant. Kind of like the guy who sits by himself at parties, while everyone wonders who invited him in the first place. And for what? So we can waste time surrounding ourselves with a group of acquaintances you call friends? The same one that you talk shit about when they’re not looking. The ones you get upset at when you discover that maybe they don’t like you as much as you like yourself. And then you sympathize with some stupid song that bags on the people around you, claiming it as the generation’s anthem. “You only live once” they said, and you cried back. You look around the room and when you take away the things you really cared about, the things you never really thought about because you were busy living someone and everybody else’s life, what do you have left? A party that has been over for some time, and no one’s around to help you clean it up because in reality, no one really cares about you. Con-fucking-gratulations class of 2013. You did it.
To: Whoever it may concern
Sorry, you know I’ve never been good at apologies, but I still want to do this anyways. You know, when you asked me how I was doing the other day, I was thoroughly surprised; I thought that you moved too far ahead of me, and you just wanted to pass me off as a mistake. But when you told me how you felt about your life, wishes, desires, concerns, it made me feel like I really was someone special in your life. You gave me the gift of hope, took it away, and left me to deal with it with my own devices. I never hated you for it…not to say that I wasn’t angry. And if I told you that there isn’t any resentment anymore, I’d be lying. You never did return what was mine, but that’s okay. We didn’t talk a whole lot when it mattered, and I wasn’t such a great person to be around. I can’t help but feel that I did waste your time a little bit. But, there’s is one thing about me being in your life that made it all worth it, but I think I want to keep that to myself…it brings me little comfort in knowing that it didn’t all go to waste.To bring down the final curtain between us, I want to return something to you. I kept it through the years, to remind me of you, and to remind me of the value in self restraint. I did my time, atoning for my faults and mistakes. I think it’s about time I let go of one burden. It’s become too heavy for me and I can’t carry on anymore. So when the time comes, take it as a sign of forgiveness, when you’re truly ready to tell me that you don’t resent me anymore.
And when the inevitable comes, I’ll be here. Come find me and pour your burdens on me. I’ll gladly give payment to the higher powers if it means I can be there to fulfill your wish. Thank you for thinking about me, crying because of me, and for being my friend. When we finish closing this curtain and it comes time to move on, maybe we’ll set another stage, and this time, maybe we won’t have to make it a tragedy.
I’ve already repeated the purpose of this blog many times, but I feel it’s appropriate to do it one more time….
Originally, I had another Tumblr, which I posted things that were relevant, but after I got suspended, I thought it’d be a good idea to get rid of it…a few months later, I found myself starting another blog, one that’s much more personal and irrelevant. I’ll never get followers like that again (not like I had THAT many to begin with ㄱ__ㄱ), but that’s okay, because this is for me so that I can vent out my excessive teenage angst and manage my life. People generally don’t care about me, so I’ve gotta find a way to take care of myself so I don’t go ‘round trying to kill myself again. The ironic humor in this is that there aren’t anyone that’s going to read this, so this is sort of pointless too….but whatever. If I don’t do this, there won’t be any way to articulate my thoughts, and I’m scared that I might just end up losing myself.
I wonder if being apathetic and judgmental really is a part of human nature. People are always saying how the worst in someone is them at their “true self”. But I never quite understood that. Shouldn’t it be that whatever that person is by default (meaning most of the time) is their “true-self”? (Why did I add that hyphen? -__-)
Like this…two people are talking shit about another person. The two comment on how fake that third person is, and how when he/she isn’t around them, he/she acts so differently. Well, doesn’t that just mean that that’s in their nature? What’s wrong with having a flexible personality? Is it really so much a bother to put up with that? Why suddenly decide that the way a person acts around “you” is them at their default? Isn’t that just blatant ignorance?
Truthfully, I don’t think everyone practices that, but when I see idiots post stupid things on tumblr and trashing hipsters and that one weird chick for the “wrong” reasons, reasons they can’t really help, it makes me wonder, “is this really who we are? As a race, is this really the extent of our intellect?” I don’t know. But when I find that person who can understand where I might be going with this, maybe that person will be the one who can find me an answer. Or maybe I’m just always looking for something to fight against.
Once, I went to a country club, and an older gentleman told me that I have “one sweet ass”. I’m just kidding. There was no older gentleman.
- Me: I'm getting real sick of your horseshit, Cleverbot.
- Cleverbot: Why are you crying?
- Me: Screw off.
- Cleverbot: Do you have any pets?
IF you’re reading this, it means two things.
1. You’re a really bored and lonely person and you should talk to me.
2. You’ve noticed that I’m skipping pages.
As far as number one goes, I can’t really help you…but you should still chat with me because I’m super existent. And two, I’m not skipping pages. The missing pages are filled out and done, but they’re either private, written down somewhere, drawn, or too emotionally revealing to be shared with the interwebz.
Alright, now on to hopes for the rest of summer.
1. Go on a picnic. (I’ve always wanted to, don’t have a particular reason)
2. Write another song. (Haven’t been writing anything new since my last finished “album”, which failed to materialize out of just pure laziness)
3. Do something outdoor-sy. (Getting increasingly flabby, here)
If you can help me achieve these dreams, please. Help. Please.
Sir, I guarantee that you don’t have insomnia, bipolar disorder, depression, or obsessive compulsive disorder. And unless you can prove otherwise, please don’t go telling people you do, or that you know how it feels. You don’t see me walking around saying I feel like I have cancer or kidney failure. So if you don’t mind, please shove your face in a charcoal fire the next time you feel the urge to tell someone that you haven’t slept for a day and you claim you’re an insomniac.
People with OCD are prescribed SSRI’s, or “selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors”, such as Fluoxetine and Sertraline.
Sertraline, or more commonly known as “Zoloft” and/or “Lustral”, is used to treat OCD as well as major depression, PTSD, panic, and the like.
Oh wow, page 16. I’m doing this a lot more than I thought I’d be.
But can you blame me? I rarely ever talk to anyone. I’m a few days away from having a nervous breakdown, I can feel it. My dad’s been away at San Francisco for the last few days, and he’s coming back next week, which leaves me, the house, the dog, and importantly, the car. You’d think that with the freedom, one would feel liberated…or relieved that they’re given this amount of responsibility and freedom. But I guess that only applies to people whose parents are always around to nag them. And even those people probably wouldn’t want to be separated in extended periods, only to see them again later. Point is, that I don’t like my dad all that much, and if you’ve been reading, you’d know that. And even still, I miss having someone around the house, even if they’re not saying anything. It’s just the presence of a familiar face can do wonders for people like me. I did some grocery shopping yesterday, and as I opened the back door to put in my groceries, I feel like I received a snapshot of my future. It was a somber experience. To realize the full extent of my loneliness. It’s not anything that I haven’t known, but getting that physical image of cooking and eating alone, it was so quiet and filled with melancholy. I have no way of knowing the future, but if this is what my life is going to end up being, then why bother to go on? I have hope, but if this shit keeps going on, I’m going to have to do something about it.
Just to let you know, schools don’t allow gloves because people used to wear them to hide the slits on their wrists.