Well, Fuck

It’s not fair that people who want to live die and then I have to endure another fucking fifteen minutes here.  I’m an organ donor — it’s marked on my driver’s license… Kill me now, brain dead, and take my organs, please.
For weeks now I’ve been trying to determine whether I hate my life or I just hate being alive.  I was wondering if being someone else, or if my situation was different, if I would feel different.  I suppose if I could go do something I wanted to do (assuming there is something I want to do) then perhaps I would feel better, so while I was trying to say that I just hate the process of living a life, I’m going to have to admit that I just hate my life.  And I hate myself because I cannot improve my life.  It doesn’t matter how much money I make, I’ll always be broke.  It doesn’t matter what I do on the computer, it’s never enough.  With no money, and no car, I can’t go do anything and I don’t think I’d do anything anyway.  I wake up and then dread having to spend another 14 hours awake, trying to find things to do to distract myself from the fact that I’m still here.
I’ve tried to be positive, but things are not going to get better — things just don’t get better on their own.
Mother fucking shit, I’ve been doing the same crap every day and looking at the same things and thinking the same things for MONTHS.  And before that, I was looking at a slightly different bunch of shit for MONTHS.  I live in a room, doesn’t matter where it is, and I don’t do anything.  You just can’t live a life alone on the computer, but I don’t want to be around any people either… I can’t do what I want (whatever that is) so I’m going to do nothing, I guess, and then complain about it until I grow an additional couple of balls, cut them off, put them in a sock, and then shove the whole motherfucker down my throat.
That won’t work… If someone had figured out a way to grow third and fourth balls, then I’m sure I would have heard about it by now, so I’m guessing it’s not likely to happen.
Why would you want to clone yourself?  Oh great, then there would be two of me hanging around, looking at the walls, lying in bed all day with the pillow over their heads.  Not what I need and not what the world needs.
I give up.  I literally give up.  Fuck you, fuck the world, fuck me… fuck life…  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
I don’t want any more.  I’m bored, I’m depressed, my stomach hurts… I hate this.  I hate you.  I hate me.
I have no sense of humor left about all this.
You win, #1.  You’re right.  I suck.  You did a great job getting rid of me.  Enjoy the house, the kids, the new man.  Fuck you.
I don’t want to infect any more lives.  I hate myself.  I hate my life.  I don’t want any more.  I’m sorry if you know me and this hurts your feelings — it shouldn’t — this doesn’t have anything to do with anyone else.  You can’t make my life livable because I’m always the one who has to live it.
I had this crazy notion that 2010 was going to be a good year.  Then I got the crazy notion that sometimes between my 42nd and 43rd birthdays things would improve.  Any positive thoughts I have had in the last umpteen years have been just that – crazy notions.  I was all ready to kill myself last summer and didn’t — dumb motherfucker, I am… bought myself 300 more days of shit with about 20 days of middle of the road getting by.  I don’t want any more.  It’s both not fair that (a) I have to be here, and (b) people who want to be here, or healthy, are not.  It’s not right.  I should be able to give up my place in line.
AND NO, I’M NOT GOING TO DEDICATE MY LIFE TO WHATEVER OR WHOMEVER and trick myself into another n years of this nonsense.

I can’t find any more wonder with the world.  There is beauty, but I’ve seen beauty.  There is pain, but I’ve felt pain.  This is this and there is that, I’m sure I’ve seen it, done it, or had it, or shared it, or put in behind my ear, or did whatever.  It’s all been done before anyway.  I can’t sing a song that can’t be sung (what a STUPID line)…  I mean, John, come ON.  FUCK YOU JOHN LENNON.  Yeh, I said it.

And what about Kidocial?  Of course, I’m not going to finish it.  Who do you think I am???!?!?!?  FUCK.  I thought of it in 2004… surely someone else is going to think of it soon.  It will be done and they’ll make billions.  I don’t want to be here to see that happen AGAIN.  FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK


Comments

2 responses to “Well, Fuck”

  1. i feel the same way too a lot of times (most times). I get very frustrated with myself and a lot of people and circumstances.

  2. 🙁 have felt this exact same way myself for different reasons, but the same non the less.

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