Comming to Terms with Myself
I realized something today; I need to grow the fuck up and quit pouting every time things don't go my way. What's the fucking point in worrying so much about what others think or what they'd think of me if I said this or that. I'm tired of thinking that I have to impress everyone. I'M A PATHALOGICAL LIAR. It's just like natalie portman in Gardenstate; I'll catch myself telling lies that aren't even remotely true. Why? Because I want to be accepted SO bad that I can't stand it. I think that I've been pushing myself onto people that've already accepted me. Siam what siam. I offically hate the AF. I'm sick of being treated like a fucking little kid. So what if I decide to take control of situations that other, 'more responsible' people, think they should make. I'm not a fucking child!
I feel sick. Nothing to do with my stomach, or the accident; I feel emotionally sick and empty. I've thought of suicide more often than I used to. I've thought of ways to get kicked out of the AF. The only problem is that IF I do decide to get myself discharged, I have no home to go back to. All of the places I used to call 'my room,' are now occupide. Where would I go? Would it be worth it just to be able to tell my boss to 'fuck off?' Would the sweet smell of freedom be enough to get me over the fact that I'd be poor? I could always get discharged and work for my uncle Mike.....
I just don't know what I want to do. I don't like to piss people off, especially those appointed to supervise my life. I don't like to be a burden, in fear of being in the spotlight. But at the same time, I CRAVE attention. I want to be that guy who everyone thinks is the shit. I want to be 'that guy.' I'm sick of feeling the effects of this pyhcological canundrum.
You know what the bottom line is? The simple truth to my disorder? All of the secret shit in my mind that petrudes at exactly the time I don't want them to? JON CAIN NEEDS TO GET LAID!
It's been over a fucking year now goddamnit! What the fuck is my problem? Jeez......
Fuck off...
I feel sick. Nothing to do with my stomach, or the accident; I feel emotionally sick and empty. I've thought of suicide more often than I used to. I've thought of ways to get kicked out of the AF. The only problem is that IF I do decide to get myself discharged, I have no home to go back to. All of the places I used to call 'my room,' are now occupide. Where would I go? Would it be worth it just to be able to tell my boss to 'fuck off?' Would the sweet smell of freedom be enough to get me over the fact that I'd be poor? I could always get discharged and work for my uncle Mike.....
I just don't know what I want to do. I don't like to piss people off, especially those appointed to supervise my life. I don't like to be a burden, in fear of being in the spotlight. But at the same time, I CRAVE attention. I want to be that guy who everyone thinks is the shit. I want to be 'that guy.' I'm sick of feeling the effects of this pyhcological canundrum.
You know what the bottom line is? The simple truth to my disorder? All of the secret shit in my mind that petrudes at exactly the time I don't want them to? JON CAIN NEEDS TO GET LAID!
It's been over a fucking year now goddamnit! What the fuck is my problem? Jeez......
Fuck off...