Tuesday, March 31

Pseudo-Intellectual Spews Verbal Diarrhea...

I hate pretentious people. No one thinks you're nearly as fabulous as you think you are. You're actually rather rotten.

I'm feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment, and the only way to feel a little less whelmed is by writing about how overwhelming everything is--- I think.

I want to read something funny. Like, gut-wrenching funny, but I've only got tragedies on hand. And searching fictionpress is too time consuming and discouraging.

Sometimes, I try to think like a post-modernist, but I end up wanting to vomit. Surrealism and nihilism can do that you...

It makes me dizzy, thinking of all the endless possibilities when truth is relative. It's a very messy business that leads to passivity, recklessness, and irresponsibility. Though I often condone chaos, it's only to rebel against social structures and norms---there must be a catalyst for anarchy, there must be momentum for social movement (often times being civil unrest). However, with post-modernism, every action can be justified, no matter how horrendous, with an 'it's all about perception' comment thrown callously into the argument. Therefore, there is no intense feelings of unrest, unease, dissatisfaction. It enables stagnation of the worst sorts. When we don't understand that human suffering is wrong---that it is an absolute regardless of culture, society, the individual--- we are indeed emotionally stunted. We are numb, as a whole.

Then again, my views can be considered contradictory.

I love arguing that truth is relative, but I know that's just for fun in most (if not all) cases. There is a truth, whether it be divine or organic or whatever you want to call it. To argue the syntax is pointless. Enjoyable, invigorating, but pointless nonetheless.

Honestly, if there is no universal truth, if there is no ultimate anything, where the hell do we stand. There are absolutes, my friend---it's called natural law. You cannot transgress the boundaries of natural law, regardless of how hedonistic and badass you think you are.

That's all.


Sunday, March 29

Not Seeing Beyond Myself...

I don’t know if I have renewed vigor, or if I just want to give up and die. I dunno, honest. It’s all obscenely menial.

I’m trying to be logical about the whole thing, because I hate losing friends over trifles. But I don’t think I can hold on to this one much longer, regardless of how much I happen to love her. Everything has an end and my only option is to embrace change.

Change along with the chord progression, I say.

Please don’t make me admit to being the fool. My ego can only take so many blows at a time.
If anything, I would have googled the shit out of your pop culture reference by now, and I’d like you to play along as if I always knew what you were talking about. Don’t call me out on my ignorance. It’ll be my greatest shame.

I really should learn to move past this. . .otherwise, I’m just as bad as the Little Prince’s flower. Except, I have no little prince to humor my ‘dying’ coughs.

Live high, live mighty, live righteously.
Take it easy.
Live high.

That’s really all I want. Live it up righteously. Perhaps I should join a covenant, or cult, or some other massive form of group think. Group think works wonderfully---just ask the Germans.

I love you very much.

I’m afraid that I won’t love enough. I’m beginning to think that the only purpose in life is to love as much as you can. Everything else falls into place once you allow yourself to love and be loved. Everything becomes more poignant---the hurt, the heal, the promise of better. Sometimes I don’t think I’m strong enough to love everyone---hate is a weakness.

Do not succumb

And then I think of my brother and say, ‘fuck it. It’s too hard to love assholes.’

P.S. I love me.
P.P.S. Me is awesome.
P.P.P.S. Sometimes. . .

Wednesday, March 25


I have to get out of this place and away from these people. I really do, because it’s killing me. And nobody gives a damn. That bastard makes my life hell. There isn’t such a thing as justice, because he gets away with everything. He can say whatever he wants to me, he can push me around, and no one fucking cares. Mom will always defend him, I will always be the bad one no matter how hard I try. Dad can’t fight for me because he wants peace. I can’t fight for myself because I never win.

I don’t even WANT him to drive me anywhere. I avoid it as much as I can because all he does is bitch at me and tell me that I‘m worthless and that everyone hates me and that I‘m killing mom. Not a moment of peace. Not a moment when Bobby and Asima are telling me I should just die.

It isn’t fair. Dad doesn’t understand. He’s not there when they’re doing this to me and then they both team up against me and make me out to be the liar.

I just want to get my damn license. I want to get my license, take my money, and drive as far away from this shithole as I possibly can. Let them destroy themselves, I don’t need it.

I wish someone would hear my side. For once. Just once. I want to them to hear my side. My side. Will someone please hear my side?


I'm figuring this shit out so don't rush me, K?

Monday, March 23

Waiting For These Feelings To Pass...

The worst feeling is being hopeless and lost. I'll try to be happy, though. People don't like me when I’m unhappy. And by ‘people’ I mean my friends, most of the time. Which sucks. Because all I want to do is stay in bed and cry.

It’s okay. Painted smiles eventually become real ones and we all move past these moments as though they’ve made us stronger somehow.

I want to scream bullshit at myself, but I don’t have the energy to do it.

Dear friend, I want to die. Sorry for my lack of subtlety.

I am useless. I am worthless. I am talentless. I am hideous. Inside and out. I have nothing to offer the world. I am not a contributing member of my society, of my family, of my social circle. I serve no purpose, have no higher calling, believe in nothing. Nihilsm. Complete and utter nihilsim.

I was afraid of what would happen to me once I crossed this threshold. There is nothing. I am nothing. Yet you seem to be everything to me at the moment. Which makes me sick, because I want my life to be more.

Dear friend, I can’t do this anymore. I hate being alone. I hate being alone. I hate being alone.

I wish someone would hug me and tell me everything is going to be alright. I wish someone would let me weep with them, if only for a moment. I wish someone would let me be vulnerable without feeling stupid. I wish someone, anyone would be honest with me.

I often fantasize about gutting myself open like a fish. Or drowning in a bowl of soup. Or overdosing on some of my mother’s sleeping pills. I like to think that I really have nothing to lose. My mother hates me, my father is always disappointed in me, my brother would be happy to see me dead, my sister wouldn’t care either way, my best friends merely tolerate my bullshit and are better off without me always bringing them down, my academics mean nothing, my future is nonexistent, and I hate myself.

It seems like a plausible solution.

Just get it over with, dammit. Just do it already.

Even Jeremy wants me to kill myself at the expense of his own existence.

But every time I actually go to do it, I think that maybe God cares a little of what I’m doing with this body of his. Maybe he would mind if offed myself. And what if there really is a hell? I don’t want to get myself there any faster.

Because I know that’s the end, right there. An eternity of damnation belongs to me.


Wednesday, March 18

The Little Ranter That Could...

Ummm...I really should post something here. It's almost mid-march. Sorry.

I'm trying to suppress my darker thoughts, especially since it seems to scare people. It's just, I wouldn't really mind not living at this point. It doesn't seem very important. ha. Some would argue that it's all that actually matters, but I'm not truly living anyway, so it doesn't.

I think this is what happens when people lose their faith. They have nothing to live for and everything becomes trivial and meaningless. Then again, I've always felt that the things we do are trivial and meaningless, right from the start.

I don't want a plan for my life. I don't want to think about the future. I don't want all this stuff.

I just want to wake up in the mornings and take it one day at a time. I want to drink in the moments that'll never come again. I just want to love and be loved, more than anything else.

I wonder if that makes me brave or a coward? I dunno.


P.S. I know you think I'm crazy. Sorry.
P.P.S. Actually, I can't apologize for who I am anymore, so...no. I'm not.