Who'd have thought?

Pretty upset today, not going to lie about that. It sucks because I feel more alone than ever, and it's my fault. It's even worse because I just ran a pyramid work out. I haven't run in ages and could barely walk home, yet I still feel as terrible as I did earlier. How is it that I can exhaust myself to the point of a struggle, and I still have enough energy to wallow in bitter self-pity? And, it just feels so damn good to see how useless typing this shit is. How many fucking blogs have I posted? How many of them have helped me in the slightest bit? Fucking zero. Nothing makes me feel good these days. I don't know what the hell compels me to get my melancholic ass out of bed, and if it gave up on me tomorrow, I wouldn't care at all. Why should it matter if whatever I have left finally died? I don't even bother caring about anything anymore. All I know now is how to be an asshole. I just let my friends and family drown any time they ask me to help.

And, even now, all I can think about is how big of a fucking pansy bitch I'm being.

I wish I could turn my entire life into lyrics. Good lyrics. If you all heard the song that is my life, you'd never take out the headphones.

I just realized that there may never come a day where I don't hate myself. There may very well never be the day where I can stand to look in the mirror. It never occurred to me that there is a possibility that things won't get better, and that scares the shit out of me. The problem is I don't think it scares me enough to motivate me. I'm only afraid enough to let it happen.

Zacking.

I just can't help but listen to all the songs that have someone screaming out of key. It's not perfect by any means, but they have so much power and emotion that I can't take the headphones out of my ears.

There goes my career.

fuck, I'm tired.

I used to be an awesome listener.
But now I just drift and out or get pulled away by beats and measures
like I don' t have a choice but failure and running from a brighter future.


If only I had written that. 

So tired.

It's 7:04 in the morning, I woke up just a little while ago, and I have yet to start an essay that is due in three hours. Looks like I'm missing Critical Thinking again. Oh, darn. These blogs don't really mean much anymore. About as important as a status on Facebook. I suppose what I have to say isn't as minuscule.

Erin, I love you.
Jonathan, I love you.
Jesus, I love you.
Taylor, I love you.
Zack, I love you.
Bryan, I love you.
Elton, I love you.
Lawrence, I love you.
Mom, I love you.
Dad, I love you. Happy belated birthday.

I guess I'm going to throw a shitty essay together, jump in the air and pray.

Me.

I really love how everyone and their mom thinks they know what's best for me. Dear everyone and their mom, please stop making my choices for me. I've spent my entire life knowing who I am, but none of you fucking jerks let me be me. I'm just trying to be myself, so please stop shoving the rest of the world down my throat.