Something about something.
I want to write but I have nothing to actually talk about, so I think I might just kind of spill it all…the contents of my head…this might get ugly. I will try to keep on track.
It seems like clouds are forming and they are disruptive and made up of evil gas…not green, but greenish…a tint of green…mostly grey, but you can also see through them.
Liquid, lots of liquid.
I feel like maybe it’s mostly spit and drool…kind of the way your mouth fills up right before you’re about to vomit everywhere.
But keep eating…don’t stop eating…never stop eating, you’re not getting full, you will never get full, eat until you throw up and then keep eating…don’t you dare stop.
Try to eat afterwards.
Sometimes I feel like I am filling up with an unbalanced amount of nothingness, and it feels like nothing, and it feels like everything.
The only time I’m not lonely anymore is in my dreams, mostly because I dream about my friends and my ex’s and my family that I never get to see anymore.
Sometimes I dream about my cat, and I am always surprised to see that she’s back…I can never just have a normal dream where I have always had my cat and will always have my cat.
I have a severe lack of cats in my life.
I’m allergic to cats, but I like to do things that are bad for me, so I don’t care that much.
I can’t get my dog to love me.
I mean, he’s not really my dog…he’s my parents dog, but my dad doesn’t really like him that much and my step mom loves him but has neglected him so badly that it’s given him some sort of separation anxiety that has slowly evolved into anti-social behavior.
Dogs are not supposed to be anti-social.
Sometimes I feel like it’s me, like I’m doing something wrong, but then I come to my senses and realize that the dog is just fucked up…just so so so fucked up.
Everything in my life is fucked up.
It always has been and it always will be.
It’s so frustrating seeing so many people who have life’s that just kind of work out.
It’s like, “Where the fuck do you get off?”
Do you have any idea how hard I work to make just ONE FUCKING THING work out, and it NEVER seems to happen?
I don’t think I’ve actually ever had anything work out for me…can you even imagine? Not one single thing…I am 32 years old and I just carry this string of failures behind me wherever I go.
Sometimes, I think the only thing I’ve ever actually been good at is getting fucked up.
I’m REALLY good at getting fucked up.
I’m good at holding my liquor and holding down a bad trip.
I’m good at doing too much cocaine and going to work the next morning.
I’m good at drinking too much and still standing.
I’m good at smoking a pack a day.
What a shitty list of things to be good at, no?
I would try to list off a bunch of things I’m good at that aren’t shitty, but I can’t seem to think of any right now.
That’s my brain dump.
Now I’m going to lay in bed by myself, again, for at least a couple of hours while I watch some shitty netflix and try to pass out so I can go to my dead end job tomorrow and make chump change and pay down some debt so I can get ready to jump into more debt so I can try to find a better job that I probably won’t be good at.
Life is fun.
The really fucked up thing is that I don’t actually feel depressed…I am just so unsatisfied with my life right now.
Isn’t that the fuck of it all?
I love you.
I’ll talk to you later if you decide to stick around.
I will understand if you leave.
Most people do.