.
decided to take on a project. Again. When will I stop having ideas? Thinking that I can do things? Believing I know what im doing? Or at the least that im smart enough to figure it out... Delusions of grandeur. delusions of normalcy. Delusions of not-retarded.
Goddamnit i must be fucking stupid. I ruin shit. Everywhere I go, everything I touch, gets destroyed. Rendered useless. And here I am, the one who said yes, the one who signed my name, the one who thought he could, the one whos responsible for pulling it all apart and putting it in the dump. Well, it worked fine before, but then I thought something. Thought I could do something. Thought I could make something.
Thought I could make something of my art. Thought I could make something of my music. Thought I could make something of my phototgraphy. Thought I could make something of my love. Thought I could make something of me, but look where I stand now. Just digging a ditch to die in. Jesus just make it happen faster.
Ha. Got married. Bought a fucking house. Bought a truck. Bought another truck. Bought a motorcycle. Cant make any of these fucking things work. The more I try the more they die. The more I ruin them all. Buy this, do that, say I DO. What the fuck. Truck wont run, dropped the bike and broke it. Hell, I can't even take care of MYSELF, much less anything else. And here I am writting this, hoping that someone will read it. Hoping something will happen, other than more things getting broken.
Although, what's the worst that could happen, i suppose. Whats the fucking point.
The thought that one of these days I wont be afraid of suicide, doesn't worry me that much any more.
Goddamnit i must be fucking stupid. I ruin shit. Everywhere I go, everything I touch, gets destroyed. Rendered useless. And here I am, the one who said yes, the one who signed my name, the one who thought he could, the one whos responsible for pulling it all apart and putting it in the dump. Well, it worked fine before, but then I thought something. Thought I could do something. Thought I could make something.
Thought I could make something of my art. Thought I could make something of my music. Thought I could make something of my phototgraphy. Thought I could make something of my love. Thought I could make something of me, but look where I stand now. Just digging a ditch to die in. Jesus just make it happen faster.
Ha. Got married. Bought a fucking house. Bought a truck. Bought another truck. Bought a motorcycle. Cant make any of these fucking things work. The more I try the more they die. The more I ruin them all. Buy this, do that, say I DO. What the fuck. Truck wont run, dropped the bike and broke it. Hell, I can't even take care of MYSELF, much less anything else. And here I am writting this, hoping that someone will read it. Hoping something will happen, other than more things getting broken.
Although, what's the worst that could happen, i suppose. Whats the fucking point.
The thought that one of these days I wont be afraid of suicide, doesn't worry me that much any more.