It may be touching, but I'm out of touch.
So from here on out I am disowning love and the pursuit thereof indefinitely. It's just too much of a hassle. I'm tired of looking for it, and it's tired of running from me, so this is for the best of both of us.
No just to grow to be an angry, crazy, lonely old man and my life will be perfect.
Damn it, I don't want these emotions anymore! Take them away! I HATE them! I want it to be over...
but they'll always be there haunting me, making me question every move I make. Making the simplest social interactions into embarrassing, awkward encounters. Someone take these feelings away! I want to be normal again. It's like a disease! A mental disease.
I wouldn't even know what to do with love if it fell in my lap. I was raised around the ideals of broken relationships. All of my significant role models have failed in one part of their life; love. So maybe it's not for me. It only makes me angry and stupid.
charged 100%
I've lost control of the only thing I've ever had control over. School. My last line of defense against the mass meaningless-ness is gone, and I'm going under. Here's where I let out my stream of expletives (yet another habit that makes me meaningless).
Foot that bill. Kill Bill.
My family is full of empty dreams of what is my life, making speculation on things that are simple and plain. I hate them.
No, dad, it's not like that.
My mom tiptoes around me like I'm a ticking time bomb that could explode in rage at any moment. She blames me; I'm 17. On the contrary, I say it is her that will explode in a fiery hell of rage like napalm (it only spreads the more you try to put it out). But I'm 17. It's hormones. Damn the hormones. But it's also the thought. I'm thinking for myself for the first time in my life, and my parents can't let go. They say I'm not mature enough to make major decisions, but I am economically responsible for myself. I have to pay for everything from what I make at the job I don't have. yet.
When I turn 18 (aug...oh God it can't come fast enough) I want to get an apartment and live on my own. No more of this switching houses, never sleeping the same place twice bullshit. I want ONE place to stay. But again, apartment requires money which I do not have.
It's too much to free my soul. I'll just end up killing time. That's my life.
Skittles and water = life is good ...?... I'll need a scientific proof.
I need a shoulder to cry on.
that is if I COULD cry.
I haven't cried in so long, I feel that I have lost any sympathy/empathy/happiness I ever had.
but it doesn't really matter in the end.
THE END
So from here on out I am disowning love and the pursuit thereof indefinitely. It's just too much of a hassle. I'm tired of looking for it, and it's tired of running from me, so this is for the best of both of us.
No just to grow to be an angry, crazy, lonely old man and my life will be perfect.
Damn it, I don't want these emotions anymore! Take them away! I HATE them! I want it to be over...
but they'll always be there haunting me, making me question every move I make. Making the simplest social interactions into embarrassing, awkward encounters. Someone take these feelings away! I want to be normal again. It's like a disease! A mental disease.
I wouldn't even know what to do with love if it fell in my lap. I was raised around the ideals of broken relationships. All of my significant role models have failed in one part of their life; love. So maybe it's not for me. It only makes me angry and stupid.
charged 100%
I've lost control of the only thing I've ever had control over. School. My last line of defense against the mass meaningless-ness is gone, and I'm going under. Here's where I let out my stream of expletives (yet another habit that makes me meaningless).
Foot that bill. Kill Bill.
My family is full of empty dreams of what is my life, making speculation on things that are simple and plain. I hate them.
No, dad, it's not like that.
My mom tiptoes around me like I'm a ticking time bomb that could explode in rage at any moment. She blames me; I'm 17. On the contrary, I say it is her that will explode in a fiery hell of rage like napalm (it only spreads the more you try to put it out). But I'm 17. It's hormones. Damn the hormones. But it's also the thought. I'm thinking for myself for the first time in my life, and my parents can't let go. They say I'm not mature enough to make major decisions, but I am economically responsible for myself. I have to pay for everything from what I make at the job I don't have. yet.
When I turn 18 (aug...oh God it can't come fast enough) I want to get an apartment and live on my own. No more of this switching houses, never sleeping the same place twice bullshit. I want ONE place to stay. But again, apartment requires money which I do not have.
It's too much to free my soul. I'll just end up killing time. That's my life.
Skittles and water = life is good ...?... I'll need a scientific proof.
I need a shoulder to cry on.
that is if I COULD cry.
I haven't cried in so long, I feel that I have lost any sympathy/empathy/happiness I ever had.
but it doesn't really matter in the end.
THE END
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