Yesterday’s post was… different.
I was tired.
And sick of everyday shit.
I promise to return to normalcy soon-
just after insanity stops being so fun.
And now that we’re here, so far away.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore.
So tell me.
You’re a complete stranger.
But whatever you tell me to do…
It’ll be better than the fake bullshit I’m doing now.
SO TELL ME WHAT TO DO!
can’t anybody tell me what to do?
My thoughts are broken.
My voice, complete.
But my words are shallow.
My actions, planned.
I couldn’t tell you what I did yesterday.
I can’t remember a damn thing.
If this is me normally…
Will I be more put-together on drugs?
ecstasy sounds good.
a very good place to start.
I can’t take chances.
because there aren’t any to take here.
I can’t risk anything.
This is my own personal hell.
I want to break glass.
why can’t i just live on the edge?
Where is the fucking edge?
All I want to say is that I love you and that I’m not afraid.
The music says what I feel.
What I want, but cannot utter.
if only you knew that all of my thoughts.
my complex thinking.
it’s all because of you.
But they all think I’m crazy.
Because I call myself crazy.
It’s okay though. We’re all alright.
What in the fuck am I gonna do this year.
For starters- try harder in school.
Damn, did I really blow my first semester of college off.
I barely made it by. I feel like such an idiot now.
Thank god, I didn’t fail anything.
My parents would have ripped my intestines out.
I’ve noticed that I’ve been getting a lot more violent lately.
I blame that on Skyrim.
Oops. Don’t care.
What else am I gonna do?
Act more responsible?
But lord knows I’m going to party more.
I need to get out of this house.
Wasting my life away on the internet and gaming.
They’re black holes sucking my life away.
But not blogging. No, never blogging…
And the big one.
The good ol’ meat and potatoes:
I’d say that I’m going to be less picky.
Be more open to new people.
But I was always taught not to lie.
So fuck relationships.
Unless you’re British, Australian, Irish, Southern, or a celebrity…
nothing is happening, bro.
I should probably go to bed.
Yeah, fucking right.
Don’t fucking tell me you know what I’m going through.
I don’t know anybody that does.
I’m all alone here. Nobody understands.
And I’m not just talking about being single.
I could care less about a relationship.
But where is my gay best friend?
Everyone I talk to just wants to flirt. Or fuck.
But the worst ones are those who want a relationship.
None of them get it.
They aren’t my type.
I lie to everybody. I say “I don’t have a type.”
But the truth is, I really do. I just don’t want to seem picky.
I am though. I’m stuck-up when it comes to this shit.
You dye your hair? That’s nice.
You like Gaga? Bye.
Flamboyant? Get the fuck out of here.
The only gay kids I like live in fucking Narnia.
All too often do I fall for the straight kid.
The latest would be one I work with.
Luckily, I’m not scheduled with him very often…
Hahahahaha. Ahhh, love is hopeless.
Fuck this, I’m going to play Skyrim.
I really screwed things up.
I don’t know why I’m surprised.
No matter what I do,
I always mess shit up.
But now I have the chance to fix it.
You’re inviting me into your future.
Do I pass this up? I want to say I’ll go.
Are you going to remember when the time comes?
I won’t invite myself. I don’t like to intrude.
All of me hopes you were serious in your offer.
I get excited when I think about it.
I’ll finally get to you.
I couldn’t imagine anything better.
Especially now, at this moment.
Rock bottom is getting closer.
I’m sinking more everyday.
Be my lifeguard.
You have the experience.
You can save me.
I pray that you save me.
I’m sick of life.
I’ve been single for way too long. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to go out and have relationships with people, but I’m afraid that they’ll never be what I imagine them to be in my head. I was also just played recently… two-timing bastard. It’s shitty because I had really liked the guy. This was our second time around talking, and I was becoming really comfortable with him, imagining that he was my ideal kind of guy for a relationship. Then reality hits and reminds me of why I’m going to be single forever. Ha. I think I’ll stick to my fantasy of marrying David Archuleta from now on. Surely he’s different from all the other guys I’ve liked. Oh, that’s right. He’s straight. Fml.
I’m sick of never wanting to go hang out with others, too. I always feel like the third wheel. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I don’t have a best friend anymore. Sure, I’ve grown close to a lot of people in the past few months, and I’ve confided quite a bit with these people- but I still don’t feel comfortable enough to show these people what I look like in sweatpants and my bedhead.
I’m not where I want to be. I feel like I’m living a life that isn’t mine anymore. It’s because I’m working two jobs now. I love Cold Stone; with a passion. I’m most likely going to cry when I have to leave. But my second job, at Bath & Body, isn’t what I want to be doing. They expect me to be so much more pushy in selling than I’m comfortable being. I’m the type of shopper that likes to be greeted and then left alone, but these guys… they want me to be all over the customers. Finding out what they like, suggesting other fragrances, leading them to different things across the store. I won’t be there much longer… the extra money is nice, but that’s a promise.
School is bullshit. I can’t help but wonder if this is even beneficial to me anymore. Especially now that I don’t have time outside of school because of work, I’m not getting a chance to sit down and study. Ha. That’s a joke anyway. I don’t have the motivation to study. I’m always so tired now. I don’t want to study when I finally have free time. I should have taken this semester off, but I know that I would probably never come back if that were the case. I could see myself enjoying my freedom too much.
Good, God. I want to leave. Not just this shit-hole town, or this shitty state. I want to get out of this fucking country. I’ve never had such a desire, or been more determined to go to Ireland than I feel right now. I don’t know what it is about moving to a different country that will cure my depressed-like state. The men there seem perfect, with their incredibly attractive accents and personalities. Curse the day I ever saw the movie P.S. I Love You. That shit made me believe that that country is where I’ll be finding the love of my life and escaping the troubles that I think I’m facing everyday.
I guess it’s kinda bullshit that the first thing I write when coming back is basically one giant rant. But I don’t give a fuck.