Ego and shit

I'm in a rut. I can't really write much, I don't really go out much, and my sleep pattern is all but fucked. It's like seriously fucked. I haven't seen the light of day for, I think, 3 days now. It feels so bad. It feels like I've ran a marathon, only no calories were burnt in the process, only my sanity. Yeah, I still have my sanity, if that's what you're thinking.

I miss a few things in my life. I really hate admitting it. I'm stubborn. I blame my dad for that. He has an ego the size of a mountain, and I'm closely following behind him like a parasite. Nevertheless here I am, admitting my shortcomings to anyone who gives a shit. Thanks though, for giving a shit. If you don't, then I don't give a shit. 

It's hard for me to tell people what I think. You see, I have this irrational fear of people hating me. For that, I credit the bastards at an old school of mine. Maybe some of you know who they are, maybe some of you are the very bastards that have made my life miserable for the last 10 years or so, or maybe you don't know shit, and that's okay. I rarely tell anyone anything anyways. I mean, how do people do it? How do people say what they think to other people? How are people not afraid of other people's opinions? I don't understand.

There are alarming things about me, I can admit to that. But don't give me bullshit like "thank God I don't have issues like this guy" because guess what? You're fucked in your own way. Everyone is. We are all fucked one way or another. Sometimes we just don't realise it, or sometimes we don't wanna admit to it. Look into a mirror and just ask yourself, are you fucked? If you take even a split second to second guess yourself, then there's something. If not, hey! You don't exist. Or you're delusional. Take a pick.

Anyways, all I think about nowadays is how the fuck did I get into this situation. I saw Deadpool the other day (finally) and he said something along the lines of when you find yourself in a downward spiral, you can trace it down to one giant fuck-up that started it all. Wade's was his voluntary participation to be a guinea pig for Ajax/Francis. I'm still figuring out mine. Maybe we all are still figuring out the fuck-up that started it all.

Or maybe all of you just don't, can't, and won't understand. I've had people do those to me.

Now that I think of it, I've said enough. If I say more, all you fuckers do is just shake your heads and feel bad about me. I don't want nor do I need pity. Or maybe you fuckers will laugh at how pathetic I'm being, writing all these dark and weird stuff about myself. Or maybe you fuckers are gonna use whatever I've said against me one day or some shit. All I've longed for, all I've ever wanted, all I ask for is....

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Ha! Got you. 

Idiot.

B.A.D.

It's been a bad week. I mean, nothing bad actually happened, it's just that it's been a bad week. It's like that for me. One day I can feel all sunshine and butterflies then the next it can turn into thunderstorm and flies. There's no middle ground, no cloud building up, no dying butterflies, no nothing. I used to say "fuck my life" but now I just say "here we go again."

Oh and fuck you if you say "just chill out man blablabla..."

It's nothing I can control. It just comes. One day it's rapture and the next apocalypse. Sometimes they happen in the same day, more than once. It's violent, the change. It's also exhausting, frustrating, and full of consequence. When you're somewhere very high, it hurts more when you come crashing down like a sack of potatoes. 

We always whine about how our life is not perfect and how we don't have money and how we have to work or study and how shit things happen to us all the fucking time. What's a perfect life anyway? Has anyone ever stopped and thought about what a perfect life is? Okay so you want a lot of money doing as little work as possible, you want to be happily married with kids (or no kids, whatever), you want a big house, a big car, yadayadayada. Have you ever thought that having all that is not as perfect as it seems?

In life there is a primal need for things to be balanced. Think about it. Without balance, shit just falls over. If you think achieving all those "perfect" things is like crossing the finish line, you're fucked. I'm not gonna explain further because it's not actually my place to talk about shit I don't have, but I'm sure all of you have the ability to think about consequences of all your actions. If not, why are you able to read the shit I'm writing?

I'm feeling so bitter today. I've been wanting to write something but nothing seems to be coming out, then I saw something on the internet that made me feel so bitter. I'm not saying what it is because I don't think that person wants to know how I'm actually feeling. Besides, people only like it if we're happy for them right? No one wants people coming up to their faces saying "fuck you and your happiness" or "may you crash and burn" or whatever. Fuck whoever coined the saying honesty is the best policy because most of the time, it's not. 

Anyways I might be quitting anytime soon. What am I quitting? I won't tell. It's probably gonna be publicly known when I quit it anyways so why bother? You fuckers just love talking about what people are doing am I right? All you fuckers want to know what is it I'm quitting, and most of you shits don't even have the fucking balls to even ask me decently. That's just how we are, and I don't blame you. We're all idiots. We're all pussies. We prefer the easier way of assuming instead of the harder way which is finding out. Well, in that case, good fucking luck having that perfect life.

Okay so for clarification purposes, quitting here doesn't mean I'm going to kill myself. It sounds perfectly plausible, I know, but no, it's not suicide. I haven't thought of suicide for a long time and I want to keep it that way. Sure I'm falling down right now, but I've not hit rock bottom just yet. Yes, once I hit rock bottom I will be thinking of suicide. It won't be the first time. 

Contradicting contradictions

I struggle sometimes to think what things I actually love and enjoy. Some days it's video games, some days I love travelling, sometimes it's reading, writing, or whatever. It's a painful way to live, because something you genuinely enjoyed yesterday might not give the same satisfaction today, or tomorrow, or the day after it, and so on.

I'm no planner. I wing things almost every day. What I decide to do tomorrow cannot be said before I go to sleep tonight. I've always been that person. I'm a huge pile of mess, and I know it, and I'm living it, and I don't give two shits about what people think of it. Then again, here I am at the age of 23-something, still breathing, while I'm not too sure about living. 

Sometimes I wonder, is all this worth it? I have a huge planner in front of my desk in my bedroom here in Wellington. There are some jottings on it, but I haven't updated them in like a week or so. I have a large collection of video games in my Steam library, and there are games that I haven't even started playing yet, and then there are some that I don't even plan to play ever. I have mementos of the places that I traveled scattered everywhere. I have books lying around, pieces of paper that have writings on them, but most days nothing seem to matter.

Fuck this is depressing. I'm much calmer now than I was a few months ago though. In fact, I don't even think I've felt this calm in fucking years. I quit the world. It's as though one day I was looking down at all the bullshit that's around everywhere and I just went "fuck all of you", gave a middle finger, and just dug a cave at a side of a mountain, living off the teats of nature and all of its greenery. It's like my whole existence just looked in a mirror and said "fuck it" and enjoyed the ride instead. 

So what's the price of all this, I wonder? Because if I know something about what the fuck life is, it's that everything comes with a price. Truthfully, I don't care. If I die a horrible death, I die. Who even dies gracefully anyway? It's death. There is absolutely nothing graceful about it. For now though, I can be certain about something; I'm having the best time since I can even remember.

***

While I was writing this, I suddenly had the urge of looking through my Facebook photo gallery. I saw an old photo of me, and I looked happy. Then I saw some more. Then I decided to write this little bit after the three asterisks above because why not? 

Why, you ask?