I was going to make a negative observation of this chart, but screw it. I’m not the only person who writes more articles in one week than the number of people they know who bother to read any of them. We’re a dime a dozen.
So, I’ve turned off my little Facebook bleeper, and my Twitter bleeper, and my Email bleeper.
This is to make it more difficult for me to tell anyone on Facebook to suck a lemon, anyone on Twitter to sit on my face, and much more difficult for me to quit my job.
Why would I do this?
You didn’t ask because you’re not reading this, motherfucker. And I blame you. hahah
That actually convinced me to feel a little better. You’re not reading this, but I called you a motherfucker.
I have to admit I’m a motherfucker. In fact, it I’ve primarily fucked mothers.
See, I can say these things because you’re not reading it.
I do believe I could write things that would be interesting to others, I just don’t want to do it.
I could write computer programs people would want to use, but I just don’t want to do it.
I could have a better day than I am today, but I just don’t want to do it.
Apparently I just want to complain about it, which is okay, because you don’t have to read it.
There’s no such thing as truth, there’s only probability and how the probability collapses into reality is matter of the observer’s perspective. So, really, perspective creates reality and reality is different from every perspective.
I’d like to credit the need to cigarettes for feeling shitty, but they don’t actually get the credit. They only sometimes distracted me from feeling shitty.
Since I was 10 or 11, any time spent without some sort of distraction was time noticing that I hate life. The whole process seems really stupid. Another sunrise doesn’t add anything to my total experience — it’s just a nice sunrise.
So, you say, well, Joe, just line up a whole bunch of distractions…
Doesn’t that make me life’s bitch?
It’s not my responsibility to live because I wasn’t asked ahead of time.
“Do you, Joe, take this life to have and hold and to cherish and feed and shit and smile and cry and burp?”
It’s even more obnoxious when it’s suggested that I should be thankful to God for this life. Because, it’s pointed out, this life could be worse and the reason it’s not is because God’s looking out for me.
I assure you, what you call God is looking out for me. This isn’t a delusion and this pisses me off.
I don’t believe in organized forces of evil under Satan or whatever, but the story sure fucking fits. Anytime I’m not distracted by the wonderful, I am hearing terrible things in my head.
So, I don’t want to be God’s bitch and I don’t want to be Satan’s bitch… Which MAKES ME JUST A BITCH.
I hate life. I hate thinking about life.
There aren’t enough cigarettes, crack, strippers, or cheese enchiladas in the world to make this any better for me. It’s just the way I am.
OH BUT JOE, WASN’T EVERYTHING JUST WONDERFUL 15 MINUTES AGO?
When things are GOOD, you don’t remember the bad, but when things are BAD the past good doesn’t help much at all.
I’m terrified of this:
— If I actually do become financially independent and life still sucks
— When I finally see my children and life still sucks
I’m angry that I’ve invested myself into others’ lives — angry at myself. It was a bad idea for me.
I won’t try to kill myself because people who think life’s something they want to do, think they need me or just want me along.
And besides, tried to kill myself once really well and it just didn’t work out (and without medical attention — THANKS GOD.. and then I could never pull the trigger… got distracted by a perfect fall night and a clear sky and twinkly stars – THANKS GOD (assholes)… 🙂
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