I feel someday I’ll have the courage to.
Sometimes, that “someday” becomes imminently closer. Because what’s the point? And because I’m tired of the perpetual struggle.
I can’t tell you when my life took a turn for the worse; it seemed inevitable and impending.
I’ve tired of the rat race. We spend so much time competing when we could use that time to collaborate.
And what’s so bad about having your brain matter splattered? We’re all going to decompose at some point. We’ll all eventually be forgotten. Why agonize over the process of it—the time that it takes?
Why prolong the pain and disappointment any further?
Some are born to live, and some are born to die.
I’m just waiting to be ready to die.
Yes, yes, I know I fucked up. I’m tired of hearing it. BELIEVE me, I am TIRED of hearing it. All that’s in the past already, and I just want to get past it.
I want to be able to hop in my car and drive to wherever I please. Seriously, be thankful that you can drive, if you can. I hate depending on people for rides, I hate being stuck in this goddamn house all goddamn day with nothing to do but clean and be responsible and adult-like and shit when all I want to do is live my day as I fuckin’ please.
Nine more months of this shit. Nine. That’s how long it takes for a human baby to develop (as we all know). Wtf?!
I’m not a bad citizen at all. OKAY, like I said, I fucked up. I do stupid things. Who the fuck doesn’t? I didn’t have it together, but this is goddamned unfair. I’m not unethical or immoral or a fucking convict. I’m me, and I’m young, and I fucked up, and I JUST WANT TO START ALL OVER AGAIN
BUT IT’S HARD
WHEN YOUR SHIT
I’m in this boat alone, floating down a river named emotion. Will I make it back to shore or drift into the unknown?
That moment when you finish a book, look around, and realize that everyone is just carrying on with their lives as though you didn’t just experience emotional trauma at the hands of a paperback.
So, my dad moved out the other day. My parents’ relationship has always been kinda rocky and increasingly so over the past year after my dad admitted to having an affair.
Apparently, he’s still involved with that lady somehow or something. My parents started arguing more frequently… and the arguments were worse. It escalated about two weeks ago. Physically. My mom had bruises. My dad pushed her to the floor. Fucking asshole. I hate to think about it.
So I don’t.
Life at home is much more pleasant though; it’s just me and my mom now—just us girls (and my cat). I don’t really miss having my dad around. Especially after that whole ordeal and especially after he voiced that I’m part of the problem.
I always thought of my dad as the more lenient one—the one that’s more understanding. Now I feel the complete opposite: I feel my mom has made so much effort in trying to empathize with me, whereas my dad merely judges and makes his own assumptions. Maybe it’s ‘cause I don’t (or can’t) talk to him as freely I can talk to my mom now. I don’t know. I’m not going to focus on that… or him. Not now, anyway; now it’s all about my mom.
- After waking up dazed: Did I go out last night?
- What did I eat? Popcorn?
- Did we fuck last night? ‘Cause my vagina feels weird.
- Where the fuck is my phone?
- Are you sure? Because it smells a bit weird too.
- I had coffee? Oh.
- And I rode a mechanical bull?
- Let’s go get beer.
- Let’s just… fuckin’… order a pizza.
- What—whose condom is this?
- Did you use my bathroom?
- Story time! Okay, so what happened last night? GO!
- I”m still drunk.
- (cracks open beer)
- I hit on the drive-thru girl at McDonald’s?
- So… that was a dream—right?