This has no point, no continuity, and
is purely because I’m drunk and bored :p
Games can be fun. They can be taken too
far, but they can be fun. After all, I run this whole life thing as a
game. I try not to be too far up my own ass, but who’s to say
sometimes haha.
It’s hard to state how much disdain I
have for some things. I don’t let it weigh me down by any means lol
but when my aunt, for example, has 400,000 in cash to deposit on a
new house and I need maybe 5 grand to comfortably start this coffee
venture, and I can almost certainly hope to hear some level of
scrutiny and bullshit about lending me the money, the depths of my
hatred tend to peak out.
I love opportunities to shine a light
on the utter bullshit that consists of our life. Here’s some more
from my “family.”
As previously stated, I have an aunt
who is hella richer than I ever conceived. $400,000 cash on a new
house, $90,000 on a new Mercedes, and get this: My dad asked either
her and/or my uncles for $500 bucks to help pay some of the utilities
because work is slow. Here’s where we enter the world of
perspective.
My grandma, my uncles’ mom, aunt’s
sister has been brain dead and dying in my living room for about four
years. My uncles have “kinda” showed up to oversee her over the
years; my aunts have practically never come to take care of their
sister. My dad and step mom have taken the burden. My dad works as an
iron worker, which means getting up at 4 in the morning to drive up
to 2 or 3 hours away to a job site, and might get home around 9 or 10
before he has to go back again.
What assessment of my dad’s effort do
his brothers and aunt have to give?
He’s a slug. (Their words.) “What
the fuck are you doing with your money?” How can you expect me to
pay for your living expenses…yada yada.
My uncles, who when they come over, are
leaving the faucet running when they think it helps my grandma use
the bathroom, do their laundry in my dad’s washer and drying, use
the internet, watch the same ten programs on the history channel on
cable…I just utterly hate everything about this situation.
Why have I played along? I wouldn’t
mind a loan. I don’t dramatically need their money or anything, but
I don’t want to live off of ramen noodles for the next year. Both
my uncles have been primarily single their entire lives with better
than average jobs and almost nothing to pay for beyond rent. My one
uncle was living with my grandma until he was like 40 or something. I
have realized that a couple hundred bucks a year a few cubs games
aren’t worth not calling out the bullshit. But then again, I tend
to have the balls to actually speak up.
It’s sick to get texts and calls from
my dad who so endlessly believed in ideals about family only for them
to be utterly shattered during times their true colors really show.
It’s peoples’ odd and sick games
that are the reason things will never get better. It’s only one
thing to know how to fix something. It’s only anther another to
have the will to fight for change. At the end of the day, you will
have someone literally one degree away who can fix practically any
problem you could encounter, and they will still give you shit or
deny you.
I hate wasting time. My stupid fucking
hippie architect spending way more fucking time than I ever conceived
getting these plans. My friends thinking college will last forever.
What’s funny is how little that matters. I set a fucking goal. I
will open a fucking coffee shop September 1st, and
regardless of what it costs me to build a kiosk or figure out my
product, that’s what’s going to fucking happen. Who else feels so
fucking powerful making a statement? Who else will make it come true?
I’ve had way too much on my mind
lately. Do you think it’s funny or perhaps odd that I literally
want to vomit with the degree and compulsions of my thoughts? I’ll
go with odd because I’m never laughing when it happens haha.
It weirds me out to think that I have
to live in spite of the world. That I would have to do things because
you don’t believe in them instead of because they are the
objectively correct and obvious things to do. It makes me
uncomfortable. Granted, I’ll fucking live in spite. Fuck you and
your ideas, especially if they are utterly shit ideas. But, I can’t
help but feel a sense of loss or hopelessness because that’s what I
have to resort to. Lol oh well I guess, fuck you. I suppose their’s
a false duality or something here, but we’re speaking more to the
feeling than the endless amount of labels we can ascribe to resolve
feelings.
I’m nothing until I need to be. What
the hell does that even mean? I don’t want to be a threat until you
think I’m not one. I don’t want to be condescendingly right until
you so hopelessly think I’m wrong. I sometimes if not
semi-primarily don’t want to try until you think I won’t. This is
fucking odd.
It’s ridiculously, if not almost and
practically impossible to try and hold an objective position. I can
never get overtly frustrated, or, I can never care that much, because
I see and respect the end game. No, it’s not “death equates us
all” for you despotic lazy mother fuckers. It’s localizing your
priorities. I just don’t care about what you do. I can’t. I will
never be able to be persuaded to. It’s hard to even conceive,
outside of brainwashing, a scenario in which I would give a shit. And
yes, this is vague, please feel free to comment or ask if you don’t
get what I’m getting at. (Hint: general life philosophies,
nomenclature, and method of being.)
I want a good reason to stop hating. I
understand I’m capable of persuading and deceiving myself. I also
grant how ridiculously happy a disposition I currently maintain and
work to continue. Ideas?
I hope, I hope I hope, I so freaking
utterly hope you understand what it means when I choose to be your
friend. I literally need some reflection of the, ill-named, ideals I
have about life reflected back at me. I need to be kept in check. I
need to see what I’d like to believe about myself in the company I
keep. My reality is a choice. I was born into a “family” but god
for fucking bid be it that I’m constrained to that circumstance. I
choose my shit. I work towards my shit. I’ll fight and defend what
the fuck I actually come to respect.
I wanna be dramatic. I want to be loud.
I want to be overcome by things I can’t put into words. I want to
fight and I want to fucking scream. At the very least it’s
exciting, and at the most, life altering. I’ll use my hatred. I’ll
respect my happiness. I’ll die defiant and laughing.
