Do you ever feel like you just annoy people? That they tolerate you because they know something’s a bit off in your head, or they’re friends with you because there’s no one else? It’s not a nice feeling.
I’m not really sure why I annoy people, to be honest. I try my best to fit in. Maybe I’m trying too hard? It’s luck of the draw to get a message back, apparently. There’s something there, something predictable that governs whether they will or not but I just don’t get it. I can’t find anything pattern or correlation.
Being nice never really works for me. Being an ass works far better. When I get anxious, I attack people with humour. The problem is, my humour is twisted and dark. Most people don’t appreciate a joke about dead babies. I make jokes about them, too, but they come off as put-downs, or so I’ve been told. I thought it was a bit of banter.
Things are still getting ahead of me. School is nearly over, and I still haven’t decided what to do afterwards. Do I move to my mother’s or not? Take an online course, or get a job and see how quickly my mental health deteriorates? Hopefully I get the disability pension. That’ll keep Centrelink off my back about the situation, and I can think through everything and decide when I’m ready. I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, but my thoughts have been occupied with other things. It’s not the sort of decision I want to make on an impulse, after all.
In other news, I discovered that listening to music while stoned is quite an enjoyable experience. The worse part about getting stoned is the munchies, easily. I don’t need more weight.
I don’t know why I wrote this. Just felt like it, I suppose. Something of an outlet, just to air my thoughts. I don’t know. It’s late, and I should be sleeping, but I can’t.
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