You know when you feel totally useless and crappy? Does that normally lead you to feeling useless and crappy about yourself? I mean, say you’re feeling useless and crappy cos someone you know is going through a shit time with his/her mates or whatever and you end up feeling useless and crappy about yourself cos you can’t do anything about it? That’s how I feel at the moment. Except I don’t know why.
Anywho, life is shit, as usual, useless and crappy memories keep suddenly appearing from the most random places. For all the Harry Potter fans out there, you’ll know what I mean when I say Dementor - you know how they’re meant to bring up all the useless and crappy feelings and memories you’ve ever had? That’s what its like now. So lucky me, I have my own personal Dementor. So, if any of you guys start feeling incredibly cheerful I am perfectly willing to lend him to you. His name is Pete. (Don’t ask why, it just is.)
Bleh, I know I’ve already spent a lot of time talking aboutmy feelings, but the entire entry is gonna be like this, so if you don’t wanna hear it don’t carry on reading.
If, for some strange reason, you care about my feelings, come this way
I feel kinda as if its only me on this entire planet. Even though, most of the time, I’m with at least one person, I still feel alone. I’ve just realised there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. How fucking late am I? I feel like I’m kinda surrounded by this massive black thing that’s kinda suufocating me, god I sound like some sort of fucking deppresing poem don’t I? Eep, hate poetry…
Oh, who cares if I sound like a poem? So clichéd I know but I feel like I’m in a cage…a big iron cage with think iron bars and not even a chainsaw make a miniscule mark against them…let me out!!!!!! AAAAAAHHHHHHH! Now that my mild hysterics are over I’ll explain why I feel so fucking trapped. I’ve been grounded for three months. Three fucking months. I mean I think who ever came up with the idea of the weekend being two days was a complete dickhead who didn’t know how long two days can be…so three bloody months with nothing but my useless and crappy (yes, we’re back to useless and crappy) family might result in my suicide, which, to be prefectly honest, would be a happy and welcome respite. A bullet between the eyes, that’s the best way to go I think. Shit, its fucking depressing that I’ve already planned out my suicide isn’t it? Oh well, sue me.
I gotta go and polish my gun, see you guys later…perhaps.