Home is where the cesspool is
It's funny how I always seem to find myself back here. It's almost like the one constant that I have in my life. On the wonderful thing that is the Internet, anyway. A place full of misery and depression. A wonderful storehouse of bullshit and stupidity that I can always come back to. Warms my heart. Really. Maybe it'll disappear when this site actually dies for good, which I can't imagine will take that long. I'm surprised it's lasted this long...
I find myself bored and irritable and wanting nothing more than to harass someone else for pretty much no reason that makes sense. I'm pretending as if I have some sort of measure of self-control and so I've decided to settle for this horseshit instead, which I don't think will be all that productive or ultimately helpful, but we'll see how long it takes me to get fed up with it. Probably not long.
I could bitch and whine and moan and complain about my unremarkable life, but I don't think I really feel like it. Or at least, I don't see the point of doing so. It rarely makes me "feel better" or much of anything else that's remotely good or fucking useful, so... that's an exercise in futility. I suppose I wish I understood my mood better, but that's something that's usually beyond my reach. It's a shame that I'm so fucking retarded. Pity, really.
I've been meaning to kill myself for over 10 years now, which is funny and sad. Maybe one day I'll get it right. One can only hope, right?
I find myself bored and irritable and wanting nothing more than to harass someone else for pretty much no reason that makes sense. I'm pretending as if I have some sort of measure of self-control and so I've decided to settle for this horseshit instead, which I don't think will be all that productive or ultimately helpful, but we'll see how long it takes me to get fed up with it. Probably not long.
I could bitch and whine and moan and complain about my unremarkable life, but I don't think I really feel like it. Or at least, I don't see the point of doing so. It rarely makes me "feel better" or much of anything else that's remotely good or fucking useful, so... that's an exercise in futility. I suppose I wish I understood my mood better, but that's something that's usually beyond my reach. It's a shame that I'm so fucking retarded. Pity, really.
I've been meaning to kill myself for over 10 years now, which is funny and sad. Maybe one day I'll get it right. One can only hope, right?