I f****** hate living. I wish I could be somewhere else living a different life or maybe even dead. I remember that I once thought it would be the hardest decision in the world to chose to kill myself, now, I don’t feel much of anything when I toy with the idea. For as long as I can remember, my life has hung somewhere been between s***** and shittier. Everything seems so fake, everyone seems so fake, I make myself into someone who I know I’m not to fit in with all the other fake people in my life and try to keep under the radar so much I don’t even remember who I used to be and it makes me want to f****** explode.
Christ, even that sounds fake as f***. My parents are getting a divorce. Yeah. S****. Except the only two things I thought when I first heard it was “I was wondering when that would happen” and “Now how am I supposed to get into college?” because I’m supposed to graduate high school in a couple of years and that’s the only real option I have unless I want to work at some s***** gas station for the rest of my life. It might not be worth the effort because I don’t think my life will be any more real if I move up the financial ladder. For now anyway, I live with my mom and sister, my dad moved out to God only knows where and I can’t scrape up enough emotional energy to even wonder where. Part of me remembers him as once being my best friend, and another part of me can’t even remember who he is. I feel like a stranger to these people. We’re like three strangers who live in the same house, and I can tell the facades are finally wearing away. I don’t even know if my mother loves me anymore.
I know she used to, I know my dad used to love my mom and even farther back, I remember that I used to be happy. I’m glad the divorce didn’t happen sooner, I might have been sad.
I went to a psychiatrist once. He was a f****** quack, but what are you supposed to expect from this backward corner of the world. You can probably tell from what I wrote so far that I’m American. I won’t say where, but everyone in this f****** town is so goddamn stupid. I swear, sometimes I legitimately wonder if there’s something in the water or if everyone around me is actually fake. If I were to cut open someone’s head, would I find what an organism needs to be capable of complex thought, or is it just responding to its environment? F****** mouthbreathers.
Cities aren’t any better. If anything the people are faker and dumber, but in their own way. They’re so engulfed in their own lives, thinking it’s important, or at least, ignoring the fact that it isn’t.
If there is a God, he must be a lot like me. I know that makes me sound like I have some sort of God complex, but I mean, if there is a God, there’s no way he knows what the f*** he’s doing, or else he wouldn’t have made such a fucked up, meaningless world. Unless God is evil. I don’t think that’s it either, because I’m smart enough to know things could be a lot worse. That thought used to bring me solace, but now I find myself wanting worse because at least its something new. I’m sick of school, I’m sick of work, I’m sick of family (if it can even be called that anymore), I’m sick of myself. I can’t even look in mirrors anymore. I’m not unattractive but every time I see my own eyes, I see a doll’s eyes, and yet, they hold the most real emotion I see all day.
I wish everyone would stop being so f****** fake. I feel like I’m living in that book 1984 and it’s like I’m trapped in my own body.
Everyone expects too much of me and I don’t know why. I’m a little smarter than average, by the school system’s standards anyway. Smart enough to get into one of those groups for the “gifted” with a bunch of drooling, zit infested “intellectuals.” Knowing a lot of facts and being smart are two VERY different things and I can tell every time one of these lifeless little shits pipes up in class, all they care about is appearance like everyone else, just a different kind I guess.
Someone reading this probably thinks I’ll blow a fuse and shoot up the school. Don’t worry, I’m not like that. I’ve never been violent in my life and I’ve only ever thought of it once when some dumbass f*** put me in a headlock. I wanted to beat him senseless, not kill him though.
I guess despite my probably morbid and cynical outlook, I still cling to the idea that there’s still people hidden somewhere in these meat-sacks that drift around me. Hell, it might be the only thing keeping me going. It sure as hell isn’t fear of death.
I don’t know why I think someone will read this, but I hope whoever you are, wherever you are, you understand, even if it’s on some subconscious level. I can only hope to get through to someone. God only knows if I told someone I knew, they’d think I was crazy. I might be. If you feel like me, and aren’t some attention-seeking shitface, know there’s at least one person out there like you. You aren’t alone.
I’ll probably think of more later but for now, that’s all I guess.
Bye.

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