So I'm sitting here, bored, got work to do, but still, once the work is over, then I've got nothing to do and who the hell wants to sit everywhere bored to motherfucking death on shit. Yeah, I can read Pinterest but fuck, "humor" is anything but, it's all not funny anymore and dammit facebook is just a great wasteland of crap. I've never been one for social media. Sure, I'll bear my soul here and write drunken screeds decrying the lack of penis in my life, but shit, better here where random strangers stumble upon this by surprise and not something that my friends and family see. Well, okay, the three "friends" I have. Since you can't really delete your shit, but only "deactivate", well, fuck that. I'm thinking of deactivating because shit, I'm only on once a week for 15 minutes because my attention span is precious and I've got better things to do, like search for the coveted Golden Penis or playing a MMO or something - anything really - that's way better than this shit.
And I keep forgetting that this is here. I always forget this is here. Social media is for people who like to pretend staring at pixels is something social. Social is taking a walk. Social is going for coffee or a drink with friends. I will say it's not all bad, sometimes after a grueling day of people, pixels seem ideal. So I'm dusting off the box labeled "Old NY Resolutions" and dragging this one out. I have a feeling that from here on out, it's going to be one hell of a wild ride.
I just realized that it's been less than 6 months since I broke up with the Zombie. Why was I acting like a crazy fucking bitch? Really. I'm not dumb enough to go back to Ragemonster. I'll stay out of the orbit of idiots and racists. Sometimes, in my lowest moments, I think "I have to put up with people who are scary insecure because I wouldn't have friends otherwise" and old me with the crazy hats singing TMBG gives me a look as if to say "seriously, y u that pathetic".
So I'm going for writing again until my brain gives out. I may be afraid to speak - actually, not afraid, but if I want people to not spit on me on sight, I have to keep my mouth shut - but I have to have somewhere to empty the basket of language that I'm carrying around, spilling over, trying to stumble along and clutch the larger words and phrases to my chest while I carry this heavy basket precariously balancing in my hand, awkward and confused and struggling. It'd be nice if someone was there to help me but I can't hold my breath waiting for people who say that they'll help and they don't. All I'll get is winded, gasping for breath, and still have all that shit I need to do.
It's not that I have low expectations of people, it's that people have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that the only thing they're good for is just light talking, not doing or serious shit, so the doing will be left up to me. It always annoys me when someone says "you can't do it all" because hell, I'd LOVE not do it all but that's just impossible because people can't be there for you when you really need them. The worst part about life and shit is that the reality of all of this is that you can only count on yourself because that's the only consistant in your life. And if you're going to be fucking insecure about it, no thanks. I hate hanging my shit on other people's hooks but sometimes the temptation is there because other people seem to think that that's okay but when it comes to me, all I get is the "oh, no time for you" and well fuck it, if I'm going to be alone, I'm gonna do that shit properly. Sure, I'm just there for you to unload, but I've got it all in my head and nowhere to go, and I've given up trying to make people understand the whole concept of "give and take" and well, might as well talk about shit that don't mean anything anymore, right? Why even start, when it will end quickly?
And speaking of, I probably should at least begin my work. Hopefully this bad mood of "FUCK EVERYTHING" goes away.
