Friday, November 21, 2003

I don’t know who’s going to read this. I hope that people have stopped making a habit of visiting here, updates are going to come rarely now. No new tales of roommate nightmares will be found here, but rest assured, they suck. Nothing has changed in regards to the last post. I’m typing this in the computer center because these thoughts just feel a need for release. Not because they’re important, because I hate them; I want to stop thinking them. My thoughts are bullshit thoughts.

My amorality is wearing thin. It didn’t use to feel so fake. I swear to God, I used to not care whatever you did. Drive home drunk, you’ll be OK. Ha ha ha, what a great joke. But: My new roommate is a drug dealer, my dad’s fucking up his life. Only he’s not. You know, the strip clubs and the alcoholism and the unsavory friends and the shit I don’t want to think about- it’s not really ruining his life. Nothing is ruining his life. I know this. My friends drink and drug and do dumb shit and everything is haha. But here’s the thought I want to stop thinking: That they’d be better off if they stopped.

Jesus fucking Christ, I hate myself. Remember yesterday, when I laughed at the kid in the “straight edge” shirt? Remember last week when I thought about trying ‘shrooms and seeing the Microphones? I liked myself then. These thoughts were there then too, this is not new.

But now, there’s this morality and it’s a bullshit morality. I hope no one reads this, because I think that everyone who reads this should hate me, for being so fucking stupid. I’m aware.

My mind’s divided, all this self-reflexive bullshit and I’ve got two thoughts which I think both sides can agree on:

I need to get fucked before I go puritan.

And I need to get shot before I go insane.

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