I am just not excited for all the crap I have to do. Another crappy move into a crappy apartment. That’s all my life is, a series of crappy apartments. And there’s just no point. It’s one thing to have a couple crappy apartments (or cars or jobs or whatever) for the inbetween years from your youth to your goals but all my goals are fucking dead. I grew up to be nothing.
It’s really hard to find any motivation when I know things are just going to keep getting worse. Here’s the story of the rest of 2016: I live somewhere I hate with stuff I don’t like and a list of stuff I need to get, watch the gateway go from the best job I’ve ever had to being no different than working at a fucking earl’s, and continue to watch myself and my dwindling amount of close friends descend into alcoholism.
In the words of side show Bob, it makes me wonder why the hell I should care.
And I know, to be fair, I have to say that anything could happen and something great could be right around the bend, that I’ll always have friends and good times to enjoy, that life is what you make it, that there’ll be a time to look back and laugh.
But fuck you, that’s the thinking losers tell themselves to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
I’m 31 and still have acne for fuck sake, life passed me by and all the Carpe Diem tattoos in the world aren’t going to change that.
Now you’re going to have the impulse to tell me it’s okay and then I’m going to have the impulse to stab you with a used needle. I don’t give a fuck about being okay, okay is a movie you watch to fall asleep on a boring afternoon, okay is the nice thing you say about a meal you overpaid for, why the fuck would I want to be okay?
And you can shove all your crap about how I’m going to ‘get through this’ too.
Keep the music recommendations coming though, so far it’s Cale’s suggestion of Alcoa that’s in the lead.