Perfunctory update in lieu of anything better to do
Well, things don't get much worse than this, do they? I should know by now not to say that - after all, things will always find a way. Every day is the same - I sleep in as long as possible to minimise the time I spend awake. I bum around doing nothing or watching old films until I watch Doctor Who at six o'clock. If I haven't fallen asleep by then due to sheer lethargy then I say my prayers in a completely perfunctory and insincere way, down some unpalatable combination of stale boiled vegetables and the grissly offcuts from a lamb’s arse masquerading as dinner. Then I go to bed, only to lie wide awake for at least an hour and be woken up abruptly at the stroke of seven by the two hyperactive bark machines my parents insist on keeping in order to stimulate their vacuous, lonely lives and to afflict mine.
It wouldn’t be so bad if my Dad hadn’t quit his job. Now, don’t take that as an insult to him, but when both my parents were working, at least I had time to myself. Now, with Dad home all the time I feel like I constantly have someone breathing down my neck. Not to mention the fact that, with Dad around all the time, any discipline meted out to the two delinquent, noisy dogs is considered a sin against animal rights. I hate living with my parents at this age, but at least when Dad used to go to work I got some semblance of what it was like to be my own man. Not now. I used to go to the library to get away from it, but now I can’t even be bothered doing that. And what’s the point when I’m not doing school anymore? They still haven’t caught on to this, by the way, despite the fact that Dad never sees me doing schoolwork. For that matter, he scarcely sees me doing anything except sleep on my bed or watch Hitchcock films.
Of course, everything will be better once I get a job and get out of this house. Whenever that will be. I’m beginning to think that I’ll just never get the motivation to make a CV and fill in applications because the fact that my life sucks so much has drained all my enthusiasm for anything.
The doctor made a second unsuccessful attempt to drug me up this week. He gave me a sample of some antidepressants called Lexapro. I accepted them, creating the impression that I was actually going to take them, but as far as I’m concerned the drug company can shove them up their arse. Chemical imbalance in the brain my bum. The reason I feel so low is because I had a troubled upbringing. Because I’ve been moulded into a decrepit state by so many naïve morons who said or did stupid things to me when I was younger, culpably ignorant of how impressionable youngsters are and how much impact one negative comment can have on them. Because I have so few friends. Because I’ve never loved nor trusted anyone in my life. Because I’ve got absolutely nothing going in my life. Yet you tell me it’s a chemical imbalance in the brain. What modernist rubbish. If there even is a chemical imbalance in the brain, it’s a symptom of the fact that my life sucks, not the cause.
Oh, by the way, I’m perfectly aware of the fact that no-one cares about anything I write. I’m entirely aware that you’re more concerned about what’s for dinner than how I feel. That’s fine, I understand. I don’t expect any of you to give two hoots.
I will continue this later, but for the moment, I am off to see The Passion of the Christ. It had better be as good as everyone says it is. I will be back with my impressions later.
It wouldn’t be so bad if my Dad hadn’t quit his job. Now, don’t take that as an insult to him, but when both my parents were working, at least I had time to myself. Now, with Dad home all the time I feel like I constantly have someone breathing down my neck. Not to mention the fact that, with Dad around all the time, any discipline meted out to the two delinquent, noisy dogs is considered a sin against animal rights. I hate living with my parents at this age, but at least when Dad used to go to work I got some semblance of what it was like to be my own man. Not now. I used to go to the library to get away from it, but now I can’t even be bothered doing that. And what’s the point when I’m not doing school anymore? They still haven’t caught on to this, by the way, despite the fact that Dad never sees me doing schoolwork. For that matter, he scarcely sees me doing anything except sleep on my bed or watch Hitchcock films.
Of course, everything will be better once I get a job and get out of this house. Whenever that will be. I’m beginning to think that I’ll just never get the motivation to make a CV and fill in applications because the fact that my life sucks so much has drained all my enthusiasm for anything.
The doctor made a second unsuccessful attempt to drug me up this week. He gave me a sample of some antidepressants called Lexapro. I accepted them, creating the impression that I was actually going to take them, but as far as I’m concerned the drug company can shove them up their arse. Chemical imbalance in the brain my bum. The reason I feel so low is because I had a troubled upbringing. Because I’ve been moulded into a decrepit state by so many naïve morons who said or did stupid things to me when I was younger, culpably ignorant of how impressionable youngsters are and how much impact one negative comment can have on them. Because I have so few friends. Because I’ve never loved nor trusted anyone in my life. Because I’ve got absolutely nothing going in my life. Yet you tell me it’s a chemical imbalance in the brain. What modernist rubbish. If there even is a chemical imbalance in the brain, it’s a symptom of the fact that my life sucks, not the cause.
Oh, by the way, I’m perfectly aware of the fact that no-one cares about anything I write. I’m entirely aware that you’re more concerned about what’s for dinner than how I feel. That’s fine, I understand. I don’t expect any of you to give two hoots.
I will continue this later, but for the moment, I am off to see The Passion of the Christ. It had better be as good as everyone says it is. I will be back with my impressions later.