the usual bitchin'

the usual bitchin'

I hate kids with blogs. They alway bitch about their feelings and shit and they're so weird and introverted and emotional. Keep that shit to yourself you pussy ass bitch. (is what I would like to say to myself before starting this post). You may not realize it, but I hate being emotional. But it's all I have and it's what give me the strength to carry on, so I endorse it. That way I feel especially human.

You know I'm going a tough time when my blog starts going apeshit. It's a rather tell tale sign. I do this once in a blue moon, when the seasons just aren't right.

I'm trying really hard to cope with issues that I know the right answers to, but can't seem to believe because of the level of emotional stress I am. There's always a level of contention that my emotional state has with my mind of 'reason', or whatever so called steady state of thinking. But it's become much harder because the only thing that is consistent in my life is a harrowing depression.

As a human being, I don't want this depression, naturally, but there hasn't been a time where such sadness just felt right. Some of you reading this may think I am a depressive maniac, and maybe you might be correct, at least a little bit. Although the very nature of my being seeks for this uplifting redemption from this pit, ironically, I find my other half feeling it right to be in this state of mind, because sometimes it may create better create output, or ideas for success.

...lol what the fuck am I writing?

I'll put it in layman's terms for you:
Sometimes I feel alright. But then I realize what a shithole state of mind I was in and all the shit I went through, and then I think, why the fuck am I alright? And then I think of everything I could have done, all the mistakes I've made, all the possibilities and blind hopes I had, and I think of what an idiot I was. And then I think of the future, and how I will or might commit those same mistakes, and I think of a shadowy gloom over everything that will and might happen. And then I get sad. Fuckin sad, cause I'm a bummed out little bitch, that's why.

I don't even know what I want. I don't know anything. That's what I realized. I have no idea who I am, how I'm supposed to act or react to situations, why I do certain things and what mindset I'm in. I have no clue. I'm an emotional agnostic.

Sometimes, I feel really hopeless about everything. I think to myself, well if a person isn't doing what they love to do, then they might as well be dead. And here I fuckin am, dying. Instead of doing what I want to do. And then I think, I want to succeed, I want to find love, I want to be loved, I want to be famous, I want to be happy, I want to be creative, I want to be depressed, I want a nice kitchen, I want a luxurious car, I want a loving wife, I want kids, I want to be alone, I want to be pure, I want to fuck bitches, I want to fight, I want to hate, I want to be enrage, I want to engaged, I want to smoke weed, I want to be schizophrenic, I want to be at peace, I want to feel fear, I want to know God, I want to feel death, I want to burn, I want to shine, I want to be the very best, that no one ever was.

What the fuck do I want? Half of those things don't even make sense. Why do I want them so badly? And some of them can't happen with another. Is this what it means to be ambitious? To want something so bad that you just break apart trying to grasp some part of fulfilling that measure?

Then I really want to quit. I want to be a bum, do crack or someshit and just chill out till I die. But then I want to succeed because there's always that slim glimmer of hope. It looks so nice, and I want it so badly. And I see the capability that I have. But then sometimes, that capability fades within me because I have no faith.

And this is when I realize I am a troubled kid. But I don't want to be troubled. I just want to be troubled just enough so that I am not a happy-blind pleb.

Fuck you for reading this far, really. Why are my troubles so interesting to you? They must be, for you to read this far. My state of mind is apart to crumble. But sometimes I can pick up the pieces and fix it, and then I fall into moments like this and I just give up, because I don't want to. There is never a consensus of what I want.

Great, thanks for reading this far. That means that you care, right? At least just a bit. Or maybe you're laughing and taunting my broken state of mind. Whatever the case, there's always a looming possibility that the only person that read this is me. Which is totally fine. It's funny, because if I had that reassurance, so much more shit, dirty corroded shit would go on this blog. And for you reading this far, I'll give you a small taste of what that is.

Actually, fuck it. It's too personal. This shit, I wouldn't even tell my best friends, because it hurts just to think about it.

And you know what's great? I can't wait to be tormented by my first world depression further in the future, because I know it's coming. All I ask for is just make me succeed. And maybe once in a while, can I be happy? That would be nice. And maybe a person to care about, and vice versa, that would be comfortable. Actually, what else more can you for.. Really. Some good green tea and a Ferrari I guess. But water and some shoes will do fine too.

Sometimes, I really miss her. But I don't know why. Ugh. I'm not going to talk about this. I'm really trying so hard to suppress these idiot feelings of mine. So fuckin stupid. But, shit. What can I do. When you care for somebody that much, even if that person doesn't really give a flying fuck about you, you can't do much except simply wait for everything to die down. And then what happens? You fall in love again, and there you go in the same fuckin phase once again.

And in times like this, I wonder, when will I not miss her? Please I hope it's soon. Maybe we can be friends, because that would be nice. But then I think of all the one-sided bullshit I went through, and think 'it's not worth it'. And then other times, I want to be the bigger person and just swallow the pain so relationships can be mended. You know, what's really sad and stupid is that I still have these futile hopes, always taunting me. Actually, no I won't go into that. But just know that, for the past month, I've had insomnia. I can't sleep, even when I'm dead tired, and I always wake up about 4-5 hours later, maybe 6 if I'm lucky. It takes me on average 2 hours just to fall asleep. And you know what's more fucked up? Here it comes: I dream about you and it fuckin taunts me because it reminds of the time I spent with you and how happy I was. And then I wake up, and I'm back to the shitty world again, with no chance of bringing it back.

And then I'm like, fuck it, I'm fine. Because you know what? I can write a good song now. You know, I actually prayed for it, so what can I say? I brought it upon myself in many ways. And we all need experiences. Sometimes I hope that you will experience it. But I'm not that heartless of a bastard (although sometimes I wish I was) and I earnestly hope that you don't and remain happy. Because I still really like you know. Maybe it's the residue, because I'm really trying to fight it away. I hope it goes away, I honestly do. Because I can't want something I can't have forever right? It just doesn't make sense.

So how the fuck did I end up talking about this. I feel like a crazed emotional lunatic. Goddamn english majors always gotta bitch about their feelings in a fuckin blog. And now I get weird stares. Fuckin emotional psychos. Never date an english major, this is what you get.

Really, I tried to write as subtle as possible, but the subtle me isn't very subtle at all. At least I didn't go all out, because that would just be mean and I'll keep it to myself. I really want to write about how I actually feel.. But I can't because I'm afraid somebody might see. Fuck this blog, it's becoming more and more useless to me.

Really, now you're just a either a really involved person, or maybe you're bored. Or maybe you just skimmed down to this part. Either way, please don't take anything that I wrote to be true. Because every single sentence is. Hah, sorry I just had to write that.

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Haha, you know if it's written like that, then I must be depressed or something. Don't touch it.

Well, this was longer than expected. I'm a bit tired right now. But honestly, I don't expect myself to sleep much anyhow. So well. Good night. And thank you.

Let that shit burn bitch, let that shit burn. My money straighter than the mafuckin perm, bitch.