the sequel
so. . .
i'm sorry
so i was thinking today about how much of a dumbass i've been, over the past, i don't know, 14 years. yeah, i wonder why people still talk to me and why i still try to make conversation with others. you know, like all those completely retarded and inane garbage that you think would be cool to do, but then when you get the cahones to try it, you take it to public and realize that you look like a walking billboard for a shit-factory. and-and then, you, well, probably just me, i try to back it up, but end up realizing that it only makes things worse and i go home and, well, punish myself. then i feel like jack-ass and take it upon myself to try and make things better but shutting myself off from everything? "fuck this, i'm turning off my phone, i'm signing off-line, nobody wants to talk to me and i don't deserve to talk to anyone else, so i'm doing a favor for them. . .and making things better in the end" no you're not you hat-head, you make it worse. probably. either way, i can't do anything right and that's why i sit at home trying to think of cool things to put in my profile, or awesome, anti-trendy clothes to wear, when it doesn't matter. and of course, the all-intervening subject matter of significant others comes up. . .i wish i could retire to a night full of intrigue, glorious affairs that have nothing to do with anything, only to be "forgotten" merely hours later and pushed deep into the subconscious bowels of memory. yet, at the same time, i don't want to talk to anyone, i need my alone time, which should be all the time, people don't help me, they only make me look like a jack-ass; i'm here to make other people look cool. the proverbial wingman, or dummy, the kid you want so that girls will like you more. although i don't do these things on purpose, i am happy that it betters the men around me, since, afterall, they do deserve it more.
it all leads me to speculate, am i the only one that remember all the rediculous, the embarrassing moments that reduce my self-image to a pile of shattered glass? something tells me that those are the only things that other people remember about me, "oh, that there's the ass-hat that tried stupid move on that unbeleivably hot girl that is waaaaay to good for him. what a douchebag." and alls i'm told is that it will get better over time. i thought it was supposed to get better from sixth grade into middle school. nope. oh, don't sorry, high school is so much different, a fresh start. yeah, a fresh start of rubbish that only makes things worse because teachers care less and attitudes are so pompous and arrogant that i found it hard to fit into classrooms with any one kid associated with any of the athletic teams. well, you can rejoice now because college is a 180 degree turn around, everyone is different and you're on your own. well, that's only bad news for me because i won't have my parents to talk to all the time. now i have. . .more of myself, and more kids to embarrass myself infront of. i don't want to go to college, i want to leave the country, get a labotomy and a facelift, and then get punched in the face a few times just to make sure i forget everything so i can start again.
but look at that, i'm all dreaming again, only to wake up to another wonderful day of sickness and sadness. i can't believe i let all those chances go with those three girls. well, i was a dumbass in more than one instance with each of them, so what can i ask for, an eighth chance? unlikely.
goodnight universe, i'm sorry for the babbling.
i'm sorry
so i was thinking today about how much of a dumbass i've been, over the past, i don't know, 14 years. yeah, i wonder why people still talk to me and why i still try to make conversation with others. you know, like all those completely retarded and inane garbage that you think would be cool to do, but then when you get the cahones to try it, you take it to public and realize that you look like a walking billboard for a shit-factory. and-and then, you, well, probably just me, i try to back it up, but end up realizing that it only makes things worse and i go home and, well, punish myself. then i feel like jack-ass and take it upon myself to try and make things better but shutting myself off from everything? "fuck this, i'm turning off my phone, i'm signing off-line, nobody wants to talk to me and i don't deserve to talk to anyone else, so i'm doing a favor for them. . .and making things better in the end" no you're not you hat-head, you make it worse. probably. either way, i can't do anything right and that's why i sit at home trying to think of cool things to put in my profile, or awesome, anti-trendy clothes to wear, when it doesn't matter. and of course, the all-intervening subject matter of significant others comes up. . .i wish i could retire to a night full of intrigue, glorious affairs that have nothing to do with anything, only to be "forgotten" merely hours later and pushed deep into the subconscious bowels of memory. yet, at the same time, i don't want to talk to anyone, i need my alone time, which should be all the time, people don't help me, they only make me look like a jack-ass; i'm here to make other people look cool. the proverbial wingman, or dummy, the kid you want so that girls will like you more. although i don't do these things on purpose, i am happy that it betters the men around me, since, afterall, they do deserve it more.
it all leads me to speculate, am i the only one that remember all the rediculous, the embarrassing moments that reduce my self-image to a pile of shattered glass? something tells me that those are the only things that other people remember about me, "oh, that there's the ass-hat that tried stupid move on that unbeleivably hot girl that is waaaaay to good for him. what a douchebag." and alls i'm told is that it will get better over time. i thought it was supposed to get better from sixth grade into middle school. nope. oh, don't sorry, high school is so much different, a fresh start. yeah, a fresh start of rubbish that only makes things worse because teachers care less and attitudes are so pompous and arrogant that i found it hard to fit into classrooms with any one kid associated with any of the athletic teams. well, you can rejoice now because college is a 180 degree turn around, everyone is different and you're on your own. well, that's only bad news for me because i won't have my parents to talk to all the time. now i have. . .more of myself, and more kids to embarrass myself infront of. i don't want to go to college, i want to leave the country, get a labotomy and a facelift, and then get punched in the face a few times just to make sure i forget everything so i can start again.
but look at that, i'm all dreaming again, only to wake up to another wonderful day of sickness and sadness. i can't believe i let all those chances go with those three girls. well, i was a dumbass in more than one instance with each of them, so what can i ask for, an eighth chance? unlikely.
goodnight universe, i'm sorry for the babbling.