THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
I hate the whole world.
I really do.
And I hate my parents. And I hate the fact that they still think that I am an ambitionless moron.
And I hate all of my friends who are out having fun right now.
And I hate the movie theatre for playing all the movies too late.
And I hate myself for being so repetitively antisocial.
And I hate myself for being so perpetually angsty.
When I told my mom that I would seriously go insane if I didn't get out of the house, she just said "Well, sitting in your bedroom and listening to loud music doesn't typically induce sanity."
Fuck you.
What the hell am I supposed to do? You won't take me anywhere and I can't drive. What am I supposed to do at home? Sit with my dad and watch the fucking basketball game? Crack open the Twister board and play with my sister who is a psychotic bitch?
Give me options other than "I don't know" before you tell me I'm going crazy just by doing what I am.
It's not my fault. I hate being at home. I hate the feeling of complete lonliness here.
That's what I am. I am lonely here.
There is nothing good about being at home. There never has been. There never will be.
I can't just sit here at my computer listening to Millencolin when the whole world id out there moving and doing things.
There are so many things I could- should be doing. But I never get to.
My mom always yells at me and tells me she doesn't know how I think other people live.
Honestly, mom, I don't give a fuck about how other people live. But I know how I have to. I know that I can't be reduced to live on such small scales when there's so much more going on out there. I know that this stupid small suburb life will never be enough. It never has been.
I know that I deserve to get out of this goddamn house and live a little. It's not like I ever do anything bad and should be punished by being made to stay here.
But, hell, maybe that's not true. Apperantly, everything I do is wrong.
In that case, I would rather be wrong than right.
This sounds so stupid and so fucking angsty. I hate that. I hate being at the mercy of my own anger. I want to be able to control stuff like this.
But I really can't, can I?
All I can do is continue sitting here listening to weird swedish softcore punk and pretend that I'm somewhere I want to be. Pretend that I'm with people who have a little faith in me.
Who understand....Things.
Ugh. I hate everything.
And angst.
I hate angst.
And, yet again, music remains to be the only thing that I don't actually hate.
It, despite my parents fervent protests, is the only thing that saves me. It shuts me up when I want to scream. It lets me remember that I need to stay focused on what I want. That I need to let intellegence reign over emotions.
And I don't fucking care if they don't "approve".