You know what? I hate my life. I know, I know what a horrific teenager cliché but seriously, is it the world, my outlook, my hormones or my paranoia that makes every day seem so f**king insufferable? Seriously, if I bring in perspective to my struggle I see it as wasting my valuable time on this earth worrying and fretting. If I solely focus on the present then I over think every word, every movement, and every conversation unto infinity. Is my mind to active? Should I dull its influence on my life, but then would I become a brain dead invalid with no personality? It’s happened before. I find myself sapped of my drive, a shell of a man with no hope for redemption. I often find it at the bottom of a bottle. I kid, I’ve never been drunk but simply elude to the idea to pass myself as a barely presentable 16 year old.
Another thing. My personality, everything I thought I knew about myself seems so redundant now. Was I blinded by a faith in myself, did I use to be my own God? Masking my flaws behind the divine light that I was convinced came out my own a**hole. What are my positives? I’m thoughtful. Big frekin woop seeing as everyone’s who’s ever thought “I’m hungry” can be seen as thoughtful. I’m kind? SELECTIVELY. Incredibly selectively, plus infinite kindness is something I’ve begun to think is just a way of appeasing the actions of people you simply cannot be bothered confronting. Sure, it’s reaching a helping hand to those lower than you, but how godamn patronising is that?
Can I be called funny? Subjective I guess. Funny to whom? People who appreciate “ya mum” jokes, and also those who like satire, which is not a combination you usually see. And I can hardly rely on my funny bone to kick in when I want it to anymore. Its only when my erratic, paranoid higher self who scans my life for things to torture me about is caught of guard, that I’m allowed for an instance to show what I’d be like if I was happy. Not sure I even like that guy either.