I’m so tired of lying to everyone at every possible opportunity. I’ve lied so much I don’t even f*cking know what I am.
I’ve gone so long living by myself. I want to move away from all the people I know and care about, so I can just starve myself and start being honest. I know what I want, but it’s like I’m still stuck waiting, for something I know won’t happen unless I make it happen. I’m so tired of being a joke, a bum, some stupid pot head who’s the life of the party for people I don’t even know.
I just want to leave. Literally pack my sh*t tonight and empty my bank account and hope to God I find a place I can afford somewhere else. I’ve no real job history apart from running a cash register and washing dishes, I’ve pissed away my chance at school, and I know I’ll never be able to save enough to actually go back again on my own dime. i’m f*cking pathetic.
I just want to forget the last six years. I delete blogs, music libraries, book collections, and start new ones thinking that somehow it’ll change me if I get rid of everything that makes me up. I want to just go and put roots down somewhere away from here, and build myself again from the ground up. But I can’t get the courage to speak or show my face outside my own door.
I just want to drift away into the country and vanish. I wish I hadn’t pissed away my acting and theatre classes. The teachers all say the same thing. “If you can’t devote to school now, maybe try again later.” God forbid I have to pay my own bills and tuition, work fifty five hours a week just to stay in this sh*t studio apartment that leaks from the roof and walls, and perpetually keep my gas tank right above empty.
Is this all there is for me? Work just to keep from drowning or becoming a homeless? Hitch hiking isn’t even attractive to me anymore now that i’ve done it for a few months. It’s sh*t to stay moving and sleeping outside, no destination and nowhere to go back to.
Who cares anyway. No one will even read this. Writing it out used to help but even that just depresses me now. Maybe once I starve myself socially acceptable people will give me a chance at something other than dishwasher or gas station clerk.
I’ve wasted my life. My time. I’ve poured love and time and blood into someone else for the last four years, and she doesn’t even pause to to say goodbye when my cash ran out. That was for the best. She didn’t even know who I was. I was a crutch, a tool, to be used by her whenever needed. My fault. The only way I give myself worth is by living for others.
I’m tired of the smoke and the drugs and the stupid pointless flirting and stupid pointless sex and living a half life.
Military, suicide, or homelessness. What a f*cking life I’ve made for myself at this point.
#it's all f*cking sh*t anyways