Lamestream

Everything I write here boils down to the same thing: I hate life, and life hates me. That’s why I’m going to abandon this blog soon.

Dear self,

Try to figure out what you really want.

Then, we’ll talk.

Love, self.

Not participating always gives me this misplaced sense of superiority. It is so wrong yet I indulge in it.

I hate gossip. I really do. I don’t participate because I couldn’t be bothered, and I couldn’t care less about people who also couldn’t care less about me (the number of which is increasing exponentially). I hate conversations with other people as topics, especially if it’s the same person every single time. When I talk to people, usually I want to talk about me, or about whoever I’m talking to, because I have books to entertain me with third-person POVs. Some people tend to stick to that kind of conversations and, meh, I’d rather talk to myself about myself than come off as shallow when I interrupt and say, “Yes, you hate him; can we talk about me now?”

I say all these things because I’ve been lonely for the longest time, and lately, it seems as if that might change. In high school, not being lonely means being a sheep and behaving like everyone else. I’m easily influenced by whatever’s around me, and by the time I’m completely by myself again do I get to be myself again. Y’know, whatever that may mean. I’m a sheep, but only when there’s a flock of sheep nearby.

Being part of a group scares me because I fear that I might end up being just a member of it, and lose my sense of individuality. Whenever I’m in a group, I tend to put aside what I like/want because I’m scared to be left alone. I’m always scared of being alone. The thing is, when I’m already alone, it’s like I’ve already taken a great leap or whatever and there’s no point compromising my interests anymore.

I wish I could just talk to someone about these kind of stuff, you know?

What the actual fuck

I have lots of cool stories about the Psych experiments I participated in.

Too bad, they’re confidential.

held their first rehearsal 18 years ago today.

Happy Weezer shirt day.

So much drama

I created for myself

To escape everyone else’s

Now they’ve escaped me too

I just figured out why I am so depressed all the time! I mean, I just realized why I’m so fucking unhappy and mad all the time!

Because I am sick of everyone I know, and they’re sick of me too. That is just extremely wrong, right? Right. And by everyone I mean everyone. Friends, family, me, etc. Except maybe Cream. I’ll always love that bastard. Not everyone can stay in one place forever. Especially, me. So, all I have to do is change my identity, move to another country and get a job as a, erm, clerk or something, meet new people, make new friends, find a better job, buy my own house, adopt a homeless dog, write songs about my experience, get famous and be extremely filthy rich.

Canada, here I come.

EDIT: Obviously, I have to leave Cream. That would be heartbreaking and it’s an incredibly good inspiration for a song. Y’know, leaving a dog behind because it would be impossible for a dog to try change his identity. I mean, what else could he be? A cat? Ridiculous. Crap, I’m glad I’m writing all these down. Best ideas I ever had. Ho ho.