warning: may cause extreme depression
and i'm reduced to this. not saying anyone who does these things (online journals) are bad or on a lower level.. i'm just saying that the fact that my normal means of expressing myself seems to have gone dry or something. usually i just yell at somebody or write a depressing song, or something. nobody to yell at... nothing wrong really. cant write a sad song, or that will blow my cover that i'm totally fine with everything. i want a real conversation with someone who isn't just wearing a social mask. someone who's real. i want a real conversation. i want to tell someone how fucked up i am and have them understand and not just think that i want attention or that it's just a shell to the gooey insides. i really am. i just don't exactly know what's wrong. when i was all churchy i felt like i was being held back from life, led to believe what i had was freedom, that those who were anti were having the real fun of life. that this infrastructure of morals and rules were a basis of life. now that i'm one of those people, i keep thinking that all my real friends, all my friends that are worth something are now too disgusted by my personal rebellion to even talk to me. they dismiss me, and pretend to my face that we are still friends. behind my back they talk about me, about what i do wrong andhow i'm not worthy for them. and the sad part is i agree with them.. now that i'm on the other side of the fence all i wish for is that i could hop back over. but there was a dropoff... now i'm looking at a cliff with a fence, no way over to something worthwile. something wholesome. i came here donning rags for armor thinking "i can get by with my personal morals" and here i am doing all the things i said i would never.
all these people...
these so called friends.
they're just masks. they aren't the real person inside, the real, scared, person who just wants to be loved and belong to some greater being. fucking hell, i mean, the only person i believed to actually be themself later told me that it was all a front. it disgusts me.
i don't even know if this is jsut one of those "grass is greener" phases. i've only gone through that one about 37 times. really, where is this place people call "happy"? so far, for me, it's not in sex, friends, church, partying, smoking, driving, skating, music, girls, love, any of that shit people think they get "happy" from. movies, video games, cheating, jumping off of high things, shooting guns, making pottery. who cares. it's all about who cares for you. if the people who care if you alive matter, if they are good people who have good morals and just stock full of niceness and love and shit, THAT is when you matter. when you start to make a little *blip* on the radar of society. MTV, Fox news, NBC, fucking Radio, RIX FM, 107.5 THE END whatever the hell you listen to on your way to work for your boss who doesn't give a shit if you are happy he just wants those damn reports in by wednesday so he can take credit for your staying up till 2 in the morning to finish them. ALL of them.. none of them give a FUCK if you are happy or not. they don't care about you, her, him, anyone but the green. money, fame, fortune. all that shit is cutthroat competition for things that actually matter. all the rich men and women, the people who cry in front of a camera and get paid millions to do it, all the people who if they all gave a dollar to someone who needed it once a day, in one week there would be no poverty, all of these people, they are who MTV, fox news and all those others THINK matter. somehow people don't see the things they strive for every god damned day are the things they trash on the way. brilliant stupidity. really, i applaud all that tunnel-visioned ignorance. bravo world, you are all fuck-brained dipshits.
tv what do i need?
tell me who to believe
they tell you what to wear, they tell you how to live
you go to jobs you HATE everyday to buy shit you DONT NEED.
you are not the contents of your bank account.
you are not special.
you are not a unique and beautiful butterfly.
you're not your fucking khaki's.
we are all the same compost heap
we are all the same deteriorating substance
and we are very, very pissed off.
on a long enough timeline, everyone's survival rate drops to 0.
read that line, and really think about what it means. it means, you're going to die. be afraid of it as much as you want, run from it, take pills that you buy with your offsprings' money in your old years to lengthen the scrabble playing, napping, pudding-filled excuse for a life you have, it will still end. everyone's does, everyone's will. this exsistance is but an illusion from the fact that we are nothing but a dot on a very large and long thread of time. everything you create will turn to dust. all the wonderful ideas and monuments of life you churn out will crumble to nothingness. you are nothing. everything you dream, feel, wonder and strive for are all obsolete, as if they never did and never will exsist. let me reapeat: you are nothing. the people who care for you will be dust, mixed and parted so far away, and in such a different form that no evidence of those people's exsistance will remain.
that is what this line means.
the hard part, is that it's all true.
all these people...
these so called friends.
they're just masks. they aren't the real person inside, the real, scared, person who just wants to be loved and belong to some greater being. fucking hell, i mean, the only person i believed to actually be themself later told me that it was all a front. it disgusts me.
i don't even know if this is jsut one of those "grass is greener" phases. i've only gone through that one about 37 times. really, where is this place people call "happy"? so far, for me, it's not in sex, friends, church, partying, smoking, driving, skating, music, girls, love, any of that shit people think they get "happy" from. movies, video games, cheating, jumping off of high things, shooting guns, making pottery. who cares. it's all about who cares for you. if the people who care if you alive matter, if they are good people who have good morals and just stock full of niceness and love and shit, THAT is when you matter. when you start to make a little *blip* on the radar of society. MTV, Fox news, NBC, fucking Radio, RIX FM, 107.5 THE END whatever the hell you listen to on your way to work for your boss who doesn't give a shit if you are happy he just wants those damn reports in by wednesday so he can take credit for your staying up till 2 in the morning to finish them. ALL of them.. none of them give a FUCK if you are happy or not. they don't care about you, her, him, anyone but the green. money, fame, fortune. all that shit is cutthroat competition for things that actually matter. all the rich men and women, the people who cry in front of a camera and get paid millions to do it, all the people who if they all gave a dollar to someone who needed it once a day, in one week there would be no poverty, all of these people, they are who MTV, fox news and all those others THINK matter. somehow people don't see the things they strive for every god damned day are the things they trash on the way. brilliant stupidity. really, i applaud all that tunnel-visioned ignorance. bravo world, you are all fuck-brained dipshits.
tv what do i need?
tell me who to believe
they tell you what to wear, they tell you how to live
you go to jobs you HATE everyday to buy shit you DONT NEED.
you are not the contents of your bank account.
you are not special.
you are not a unique and beautiful butterfly.
you're not your fucking khaki's.
we are all the same compost heap
we are all the same deteriorating substance
and we are very, very pissed off.
on a long enough timeline, everyone's survival rate drops to 0.
read that line, and really think about what it means. it means, you're going to die. be afraid of it as much as you want, run from it, take pills that you buy with your offsprings' money in your old years to lengthen the scrabble playing, napping, pudding-filled excuse for a life you have, it will still end. everyone's does, everyone's will. this exsistance is but an illusion from the fact that we are nothing but a dot on a very large and long thread of time. everything you create will turn to dust. all the wonderful ideas and monuments of life you churn out will crumble to nothingness. you are nothing. everything you dream, feel, wonder and strive for are all obsolete, as if they never did and never will exsist. let me reapeat: you are nothing. the people who care for you will be dust, mixed and parted so far away, and in such a different form that no evidence of those people's exsistance will remain.
that is what this line means.
the hard part, is that it's all true.