Purpose of Life
Having a lack of things to talk about renders me absolutely chronically talkative about life and stuff. And that is also the most ironic thing to do in the whole world, and it also automatically gets nominated for the "top 10 lamest things you've done in your life" list. But you know, it's like the "irony is the new black" thing, which is too tempting for its own good, as is hypocrisy. It would be almost as ironic as if I found out that I was pregnant or something at this very moment. (Hello, it's the department store calling. We have condoms.) Or that I was secretly a part of a pregnancy pact at my school. And then when, nine months later, I'm sitting down on my bed with a fucking baby on my lap suckling me, I'll think it's obviously the fault of Juno/Ellen Page. Duh. Since following pop culture and doing the things they do in movies to be cool and whatever is something a) tempting only to fuckheads, and b) I'm your friendly neighbourhood preacher of doing unstupid things.
Rant on THIS aside, exams are over! Why else do you think I actually found the time to read some random obscure newspaper on the Internet about the stupidity of teenagers? To feel inconsequential, out of the circle, suicidal? Ha. Ha ha ha. Either way, now that exams are over, you'd think I'd be stress free. Unfortunately, you'd be wrong. Sadism is a cult religiously practised at my school, I'll have you know, practised and preached most prominently by teachers. I'm just scared I'll fall into it next year. Hopefully, I'll be too busy to.
On another note, I have found the purpose to life, the universe, and everything. Or at least life anyway. After making scientific calculations and experimenting on a test subject (No humans were harmed in this experiment. On a completely unrelated note, my sister is a robot.) I've concluded that everything we hate is everything we are. Not in the strictest, most technical terms, we're not. For example, only because I hate worms, doesn't mean I am one. (Or am I?) But down (or is it up?) to a more ~feelings~ level, I hate worms because they are slimy gits that block whatever destination I aim to reach, and they ruin the mood of rain, which is innately beautiful. I am, also, the most annoyingly clumsy person in the universe. Therefore, my days aren't complete until I've ruined someone's day, and bumped into more than five things, animate or otherwise. So, physically speaking, I do block people's ultimate destination to ultimate happiness or something. And I also make the worst jokes in the entire Milky Way galaxy, hence the title: the good/serious moment ruiner (aka Ramsha). Experiment 1: success despite the epilepsy attacks due to visions of myself morphing into a giant worm.
Hypocrites. We all hate them. (Something about the title of this livejournal comes to mind.) Unlike you, however, I am also the world's biggest hypocrite. Re: the worms thing. I also don't step on them, and as much as I'd like to think it's because I don't want slimy residue and organs of a spineless creature lathered against the sole of my shoe, it's not. It's just because I don't want to kill the little buggers. Also, to reinforce why this is such misfortune and so surprising, I am the one person in the world who won't want a pet even if you gave it to me wrapped up in 100 dollar bills. I loathe inhuman animate creatures like the dirt under my fingernails. (What else would compel me to bite them?) I roll my eyes when people point at a supposedly cute dog and mutter incoherently about people being sucked into pop culture glamourizing things under my breath; I refuse to walk into the house of someone who's pet is not locked up; I will change pavements if I see an animal of any sort walking within a five metre radius of me; I have staring/glaring contests with random cats I encounter on my walk to school. I think it's probably more surprising to me than it is to anyone that I actually mind stepping on a slimy, multi-hearted roadblock. Experiment 2: success despite the momentary existential crisis.
Clearly this translates to the purpose of life being trying to figure out how to live with yourself being a hypocrite, an egomaniac, and other things you hate. Therefore, you must try and un-hate all relatively hateful things in order to live at peace with yourself. Of course, I live on things I hate so I can't quite fulfill my purpose of life without dying. Shame. I like life too much to actually exert any effort in trying to fulfill a purpose while going through it. Therefore, I have determined that I would now like to hate as many things as possible since the purpose of my life has changed to now becoming the world's biggest a) hater, b) egomaniac, and c) hypocrite. I love me. I know, you love me too.
PS: If you were wondering if I ever resolved my dilemma from the last entry, I did! Not only does he have a bigger ego than me (which means we obviously won't get along), his standards for himself and others are insurmountable to an extent where he said to someone: "well, it might be good enough for you, but not for me." And to sum it up, he listens to terrible music. Huzzah for me! I shall remain celibate for life.