THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
Do you know what I've decided?
(Not for the first time...But the thought runs through my mind at least once an hour...So it seems nearly worthwhile to write it down)
If I were someone else, and met myself, I would completely hate me.
For everything.
For thinking that I actually posses some worthwhile knowledge while actually knowing shit about anything.
For being so goddamn useless.
For having fucking opinions on everyting.
For wearing the clothes I do.
For being such a remarkable hypocrite.
Seriously.
The hypocrisy that runs ramant through my mind is quite unimaginable. I hate people for things, only to find that I am exactly the same. I think I'm different.
But you know what?
I'm not. I'm exactly the same. As every other jackass out there. Every single person who think they have a grip on things but are really just waiting for the end to come.
I'm so sick of this.
I really am.
Only I won't change because I'm too fucking lazy.
And do you know what else?
You don't care.
And I like it that way.
No one cares because my problems are nonexistant. They just aren't there. I just have to rant about other people's stupidy so I can avoid my own. I create issues because boredom is the reigning force in my life.
And I'm glad. I don't let my mind wander. I just don't. I keep idiotically focused on one thing because that way, I can't go wrong. When you only have to think about one fucking thing, nothing goes wrong. Nothing. But as soon as you begin to think outside of your little paper box, the whole damn world falls apart.
Today, someone told me that I was a good person. A good friend. And that they didn't know why everyone else kept "choosing to ignore my existance."
And I really wish they hadn't.
Because every compliment you get goes to your head. It lets you think that maybe your actually worth something. That you might have some redeeming qualities. When most of your current friends have confessed that they really used to hate you before...thishappened- it's a good thing. Or a bad one.
People hated me when I was blissfully unaware and happy. But now I hate everything and have virtually no use anywhere, I get appreciated. People like me more now that they know I'm an idiot. People like me because other people don't.
And for some fucking reason, it's really gratifying.
I get loved for being hated.
And I'm okay with it.
And I still can't figure out where I was better off. Happy and lieing. Or miserable and telling the truth.
But I don't care.
I jsut don't.
I can't.
Because caring is just another way to let yourself go.
All these people out there- all the kids I know who are killing themselves one step at a time- we just want one thing. One fucking thing that is so small and yet seems to encompass the entire world at the same time.
But we don't let oursleves have it because whatever we do leads to something else and for once, I would like to just take one step at a time.
Sometimes, I would rather just be my typical idiot self. Because its safer. I would rather be falsely witty that try to think about things. I just don't want to.
I would choose to be naive that know what's going on anyday.
Its a protection.
So there you go.
I could have posted some random result from Quizilla that pissed me off. But I didn't.
I wrote this crap.
And you would have enjoyed the first option more right?
Just to come to me expecting to hear the same thing is a lot nicer that coming and listening to angst.
I apologize.
Sometimes you just have to stop.
Because its driving you insane.