The Fuck With This Shit

I need to be cut off and alone sometimes.

Two straight nights I have been drinking, and I guess alcohol is really a depressant. It leaves me a sad and gloomy feeling afterwards. Maybe it’s just me. Or I don’t know. Or it’s about the things that’s happening around me, you know, all the shit. There’s too much information around and floating and I’m not interested! I can’t even give a piece of shit.

Now I crawl back to my old device: Swearing. I used to swear a lot until people took special notice about how much I use profane language in the internet. I don’t like how it sounds but in the end, well. I don’t know. It’s just me.

I can’t explain how this feeling goes. Safe to say I’ve been here and it’s been a while since I’ve dropped here again. That feeling, that you’re so down low you don’t know what to say or do and it’s just that. You just wait for things to happen. Or life to happen. Or maybe this is life happening. I’ve been asking too many rhetorical questions to myself. I can’t even answer any of them. And I’m not trying.  Maybe beneath all of who I am, the face, the facade, the identity, the smile, the scent, the walk, the talk, the works; I’m just a little boy caught up in this big piece of shit called life. I don’t want to grow up, I don’t want to be responsible yet and in a month I’m turning eighteen and I guess it doesn’t change things that much.

Some days I wish I was a better person in other aspects. I could have been more abundant, you know. I could have been taller. More confident. More aggressive. More assertive. I could have been anything else but who I am today. I’m not saying I dislike who I am but thinking of all the other million things I could have been, it makes me sad. But there’s nothing else to talk about. Maybe it’s just feelings. A pinch of reality can flush all this shit down.

I need to stop drinking, really, and put my energies into something more productive.

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