SAD SAPPY SUCKER
For a long time, I've been under the false impression that the older you get, the better, happier, and more well rounded you shall become. The newest model. An enlightened view of yourself and the world built by experience and introspection. Wrong, wrong, wrong. The person that I am becoming with time does not seem to be advancing in the directions that I had hoped. Really, it doesn't seem to be advancing at all. I am not moving forward, but in all sorts of random directions that dead end and are forgotten. Nothing but false starts. Nothing that ultimately brings me any happiness or satisfaction. What has happened to me? What happened to that arrogant kid I was five years ago? Have I matured, or have I simply been beaten down by the harsh realities of life and been given steadily less of the love and support that I need to deal with all this other bullshit in stride? Is this the door to adulthood? Or does life always fool me like this, letting me sink into an empty slump for months before I explode in frustration and finally do something about it? I can't tell. I can't remember. Contrary to popular belief, I am a very social person, and without any interaction I really start to go crazy. Really really. I need to get up, I need to get out, I need to get right, but I'm not inspired to do anything at all.
So, what does life consist of right now? Wake up. Go to work. Make coffee. Camp calls. Home for lunch. Back to work. ATM. Balance. Money money money. Close. Home. History channel. Lay in bed wondering what the fuck is happening to me. Freeze to death. On the weekends I drink. Drink, drink, drink. I can't enjoy myself or anything else without being wasted. Sad. No real human interaction. No intelligent conversations. Drunk. Faded memories of a different life, as different people. Forced love. Forced everything. Ruined music. Tainted beauty. Sad sappy sucker. Killing time. Killing lots and lots of time. FUCK. I don't even know what I need. The things that I remember making me happy in the past don't even seem real anymore it's been so fucking long since they've honestly existed. I've gotten nowhere. I feel like I'm disappearing. I live without making a sound. I'm giving up. Here's to a robotic reality.
So, what does life consist of right now? Wake up. Go to work. Make coffee. Camp calls. Home for lunch. Back to work. ATM. Balance. Money money money. Close. Home. History channel. Lay in bed wondering what the fuck is happening to me. Freeze to death. On the weekends I drink. Drink, drink, drink. I can't enjoy myself or anything else without being wasted. Sad. No real human interaction. No intelligent conversations. Drunk. Faded memories of a different life, as different people. Forced love. Forced everything. Ruined music. Tainted beauty. Sad sappy sucker. Killing time. Killing lots and lots of time. FUCK. I don't even know what I need. The things that I remember making me happy in the past don't even seem real anymore it's been so fucking long since they've honestly existed. I've gotten nowhere. I feel like I'm disappearing. I live without making a sound. I'm giving up. Here's to a robotic reality.