Fuck. That’s all I can think about right now, just fuck. Everything is just fucked. Everything. Nothing is going at all to how I pictured my life being at any point in my childhood. I don’t want anything that I have. I don’t want to be around it. I don’t want it to be around me. I’m tired of people telling me what to do. I’m tired of being told how the way things are supposed to be done and why there are expectations that I am somehow not fulfilling. I never said that I was going to be like “most people”. I don’t want to be stuck in this shit that I’ve created for myself. I want to start over. Go back about 3 years and kick my own ass and beat myself to a bloody pulp. Maybe if I did that, I would know that I need to change things up a bit or the future me is going to be a mean dick who beats the shit out of unsuspecting people. Oh, and I would be unsuspecting. Can you imagine walking up to yourself in the past and the past you is like “oh, hey! It’s me from the future!”? But then after you get that out, future you just starts kicking the shit out of you for what seems like no apparent reason. I would beat myself senseless. Then after a recovery period, I would explain why I had just beaten the shit out of myself.
I wish I had a talent for music and being able to form into words and music the things that I hear in my head. I swear, I’ve had number one best selling hits in my brain. I just have no way to convey it. And it only stays with you for so long. Then when I try to play it on guitar or something, I just fuck it up and forget what I was thinking about. I loose the tune that was in my head for the shitty one that is instead being played through the amplifier. Even if I try to sing the tune and record it so I don’t lose it, my voice is awful and it ends up coming out sounding like shit. I wish there was a way to like, download your thoughts in tact onto something so that my thoughts and all don’t get distorted by my retarded language and clumsy fingers and bad memory.
There are ways to make my life better and more bearable, but I can’t make myself do those things. I always just put things off because, I don’t know, it’s work I guess. Maybe I just don’t want what I’ve made for myself. I don’t think I am doing what I want to do. Not at all. I’m doing what other people tell me I need to do. I’m doing what is acceptable. I know what I want in the future, and it’s still very attainable, just the means of getting there is now skewed and fucked. I don’t think I’m going to be very happy for the next few years. I’ve made the bed that I have to lay in, but it’s a bed of failure, laziness, and inebriation. I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want what I’ve made. I want to get out of it. There are fantasies in my head about ways that I could get out. Ways to make life bearable. They just aren’t feasible right now. I need money. Everything in life stems from needing money. Fuck this life. Fuck this world. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!
I wish I had a talent for music and being able to form into words and music the things that I hear in my head. I swear, I’ve had number one best selling hits in my brain. I just have no way to convey it. And it only stays with you for so long. Then when I try to play it on guitar or something, I just fuck it up and forget what I was thinking about. I loose the tune that was in my head for the shitty one that is instead being played through the amplifier. Even if I try to sing the tune and record it so I don’t lose it, my voice is awful and it ends up coming out sounding like shit. I wish there was a way to like, download your thoughts in tact onto something so that my thoughts and all don’t get distorted by my retarded language and clumsy fingers and bad memory.
There are ways to make my life better and more bearable, but I can’t make myself do those things. I always just put things off because, I don’t know, it’s work I guess. Maybe I just don’t want what I’ve made for myself. I don’t think I am doing what I want to do. Not at all. I’m doing what other people tell me I need to do. I’m doing what is acceptable. I know what I want in the future, and it’s still very attainable, just the means of getting there is now skewed and fucked. I don’t think I’m going to be very happy for the next few years. I’ve made the bed that I have to lay in, but it’s a bed of failure, laziness, and inebriation. I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want what I’ve made. I want to get out of it. There are fantasies in my head about ways that I could get out. Ways to make life bearable. They just aren’t feasible right now. I need money. Everything in life stems from needing money. Fuck this life. Fuck this world. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!
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