Enough bullshit

Ever since I started this blog, I've been treating it like a news blog: posting opinions on various issues of the week, then checking back for comments. It only occurs to me now, at 5 AM, exhausted yet unable to sleep, that I've been operating on a false premise. I wasn't writing because it was how I felt about anything, it was because I just wanted people to read, comment, and thus entertain me. It only occurs to me now that my space on the internet is fabulously unlikely to become anything other than an insignificant blip in the minds of one, maybe two people, and that my chances at being listened to and taken seriously are even lower than that. It only occurs to me now that it's time to stop pretending that I know what this little page is about, and start adding to it. So what if I want to talk about green Jell-O and Dennis Leary's penis? Who cares if my particular opinion of the day has nothing to do with politics, who cares if it's an inside joke that only I get?

What others think of me is not the point, and to obsess over them is to miss it. It's time to start treating this page as an actual expression of how I feel at that moment, not so that others can read and weep and relate, but so that I can come back to it in a year's time and laugh at myself, as I undoubtedly will, at some point. I'll use this page to chronicle what's pissing me off right now, as it's all I ever really talk about anyway. So, let's start with some feelings on life.

Mine isn't that great. If I could be reborn tomorrow, to a different family, in a different setting, I'd take it. There will be people who read this and say to themselves: "what a selfish dick, he's a white lower-middle class boy, he's got it good compared to the starving children in Africa!". Those people can go fuck themselves. Just because I don't live on the lowest layer of shit, doesn't make life beautiful.

If I could give everything up tomorrow, and start off anew, maybe have a mother with an IQ greater than a moth's, I would. Listing off personal characteristics is a good way to illustrate this. So far, I fit the dictionary definitions of the following words:

* Sociopath
* Drug Addict
* Pathological Liar
* Petty Thief
* Narcissistic
* And my attention span isn't that great, either.

Most tell me that everyone feels the way I do now, that I'll get over it. The side of me that feels like a moron for being who I am right now likes to agree with them, but another side of me tells me that there may be something actually wrong with me. I have no way of judging that in any objective way, and people know that, but that doesn't stop them from trying to tell me that there's nothing wrong with me, as if it's supposed to make me feel better about myself.

It's impossible to be sad anymore without being compared to an angsty teenager. A big, heaping pile of fuck you to everyone who does that. You morons are part of the problem, making it impossible to vent anger or experience sadness or depression without being lumped in with those who are doing it for attention or who lack life experience. Those idiots who do don't have the maturity to be able to tell the difference between sadness and being emo.

I'll ramble on more later. I'm tired. 'Night.