Home > thoughts > no point in saying anything when nobody’s reading.

no point in saying anything when nobody’s reading.

There’s a reason I never sleep before 1am: I invariably end up waking up a couple of hours later, usually in a foul mood, and decide that doing something, nay, anything else would be better than trying to get some useful sleep. Sometimes those godforsaken, singularly useless wastes of life known as mosquitoes also get in the act and decide to bite me everywhere from head to toe. This is one of those nights: I’ve given up trying to sleep, and I feel like I’ve just walked home from lying about in a mosquito-filled field while fucking drenched in fucking sweat.

Perhaps my general mood of the past two days has something to do with it. As evidenced by my last blog post, I am not exactly having a fun time being lucid and alive right now. Yeah, maybe I am a useless loser who can’t do anything useful other than act like a wuss. Won’t deny that. Which is why I’ve really been feeling the urge to just feel bloody fucking angry all the time; to turn myself, once again, into that brooding bloke who’d snap at a moment’s notice. Regardless of the fact that I never was exactly like that, and even when I was closest to being like that, I didn’t like it much. If at all.

No, it’s not me. Certainly not. But when has me having to act and be fake ever stopped me? It’s practically what I’ve been doing for most of my life.

I’m sick and tired of whinging but here I am, doing it all again. I’m sick and tired of being depressed but that’s all I ever do. I’m sick and tired of talking to people about this shit because it never fucking helps, and half of the time it just makes it all worse when I sick all that shit out. Keeping it inside doesn’t help much either, but hey, at least I don’t bother other people with it.

I am quite a bother, aren’t I?

I’d assume so. I wouldn’t want to be my friend.

But, really, you know what? I can’t be angry. I don’t have the drive for it. I don’t care enough to be angry all the time. I’m too lazy. It’s not me, and I can’t be bothered to act in a much more demanding role than the one I’m playing right now.

Other people have their problems. Other people have real problems. Other people’s lives might justify them feeling down all the time. Mine doesn’t. It just simply doesn’t. Which, again, leads to a vicious cycle of me berating myself for feeling down which invariably makes me feel even worse which makes me berate myself even more until I just can’t stand it and explode in a glorious explosion of meat, blood and bones.

Okay, maybe the last bit isn’t true. But I wish it was!

“Cheer yourself up”? What the fuck is that? Tell me, please. Because I do not have a fucking clue. It’s never worked for me. No sir. Not at all.

Categories: thoughts
  1. Zara Suhaimee
    Mar 5, 2008 at 23:29

    I’m reading :)
    I’m your number 1 fan!
    I’m a stalker.
    so beware! HAHAHAHA just kidding.

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