Warning: emo bullsiht ahead…

… Yeah, now they’re in my heart…

I couldn’t get up today. I hate it when that happens. People I hate in permanent residence. Turning things on the TV that can only be described as Daytime Hogslop. (Jerry Springer, I hope you die a long and excruciatingly painful death.) It’s like living with the high school bully you though you had left behind. Then you remember that life is high school, only bigger, and you feel about ten times worse because you were fooled into thinking life was better than that somehow.

*is briked for no apparent reason*

It’s like the insomniac episode of Ren and Stimpy. i can hear my hair growing, feel my skin peeling…

The places I go when I sleep are about ten times more interesting than if I actually put effort into life as is. Maybe my mind has finally found a way to go there on a more permanent basis.

I feel like I’m writing a the journal that people will find after I’ve gone completely out of my head. The only problem is that, knowing this world, whoever finds it will probably sell it, make millions, and give me none. “What does a crazy person need with money? HAHAHA!”

I hate my glasses. They’re all worn and old now. The black is starting to scrape off and they don’t look as slick anymore. I remember when I first got them. Mom was all bitchy about how i wanted to see what I looked like in the rimless frames. I just wanted to see. It’s not like I was going to say “bag ’em up” behind her back. I just wanted to see. She’s such a fucking-fucker around money. You all are. We’d be such better creatures if we’d stop eating the menus and start eating the food.

And this is what happens when you’re alone with your thoughts and some Alan Watts recordings for too long. Could be worse. It usually is when I am employed, I start believing the lies. Mostly because I start believing in the system. I’m good now. No more delusions. Society is a sickness I try not to let rule me. That’s going to get me killed one day, but whatever… Let it happen. I’ll die happy, and someone will learn from me.

And now, in the wee hours of the butt-crack of morning, I’m pondering all this as though it’s important. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. It certainly doesn’t feel important.

I used to get up this early. Wash up. Get dressed. Drink some tea. Grab a bagel. Stand at the bus stop for about a half-an-hour in the cold. Work for about 8-10 hours. Come home exhausted. Eat. Sleep. Rash, rinse, repeat. Six days a week. Little to no time or energy for anything else.

Fuck. That. Shit.

Fuck working hard at something that gleans no mental interest with people that seem like they don’t care about you for way less money than it’s worth. Fuck Early days, late nights, and an energy level like that of a sloth when it comes to doing things you want to do. Fuck the pain, the blood, the tears the embarrassment from bosses, the sense of utter failure you get when you run out of money halfway though the week.

I want to revoke my American license. Become landless. Stateless. People-less. I am Jenartica, Coldest fucking place on earth, guaranteed to chill even at the equator.

You can do that you know; there are forms and everything.

I want to kill something. Split open it’s belly. Squeeze the life out of it. This is what they invented Mortal Kombat, methinks.

I don’t even do dishes anymore. That used to be my thing. School, Dishes, Trash, Homework, Writing, Bed. That was about it. Somewhere in all that, I heard bits and pieces about this shit called college, but I felt I was doing enough, thanks. All I felt like adding was a job (poor, deluded me), and maybe work on getting a place of my own. Blurs and bullshit after that. Why the fuck did it take me so long to grow a brain of my own?

I blame TV. All it taught me was that hurting people in the name of justice was right, that a lot of crimes happened in ghetto sections of the city, and that talking bears could also fly planes. There’s a few other important lessons in there, but I think TVTropes covers them all.

Starting to feel better. Just a skosh. Still want to kill things. Probably need another cup of tea. You know, just to “even things out”. Yay, addiction.

I… I don’t want to write anymore. T_T

Thank you, and have a nice day.


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