i’m really worried about our generation’s children they’re gonna be so fucked up like they’re all gonna be named after anime characters and people in john green novels and you guys are gonna praise them for being anti social and tell them that grades are unimportant i’m saying a prayer for these kids as we speak
I agree with all of this except the anti social part. I think there’s nothing wrong with being anti social. I was and still am.
However, you gotta see the irony in all this. Being anti social is now cool. Which means that how I was as a kid is socially acceptable now. If I was a teenager now, I probably wouldn’t have gotten bullied so badly.
So this is how the nerds exact their revenge lol.
Flappy bird isn’t even that hard
You must be the Jesus Christ of that game because my high score is eight and I find it impossible to control that stupid flappy asshole bird. Lol.
That’s still pretty good! mines 23 but idk how i got that high it was just a stroke of luck i guess because my average score is probably like 6 hahaha. i just see it as a really fun game like i dont even have any animosity against the bird it’s just there lol
That bird haunts my dream lol. I think one of my nieces has gotten around thirty points on it. It just drives me nuts. I’ll stick with my Pokemon games lol :-)
All I can think of is how no one will ever truly know me. I’m sad that I will die without anyone ever having truly known me. When I was a child, I had this notion in my head that everyone was made as a pair; that everyone was a puzzle piece and it was only a matter of time before you encountered and met and fell in love with your missing piece. As an adult, I still believe in that, but the only thing that’s changed is that I feel as though I was made without a pair. I’ve spent my entire life as a dreamer. Dreaming of that day I’d fall in love and create a world with my lover; a place where we could get lost; a place where it would just be us. We’d have that special connection that would confuse other people but it didn’t matter because we had each other. We would get lost in that world. We would be crazy about each other. We would have private jokes and we’d have such a deep connection that being without the other would feel like being ripped apart. I still want that. I see everyone around me “fall in love” with others and they get to have that small romance, and then it’s gone. I can’t help but to be jealous of that. I see men and women use each other and then toss each other aside. I see people date others who they don’t deserve. I see my friends and family attract other lovers and I grow envious each time. I don’t get to do that. Maybe I was put on this earth to do something other than fall in love, or maybe I’m not supposed to be here. I feel like something is wrong with me, that no one in my thirty years in this world has fallen in love with me or asked me out or told me how beautiful I am. No one has harbored crushes on me. No one has flirted with me ever, though some people tell me I’m wrong about that. I think they are wrong.
The men that I’ve been attracted to have always used me. They know how I feel about them and they either detach from our friendship or they use me. My recent “crush” was a failure. I thought I was in love. Or some perverted version of it. I don’t think it was love; I think I was so lonely I tried to attach myself to who I thought was my missing piece. And now I think I was wrong. I don’t think guys want to have a relationship with someone like me. I look weird and not very attractive. I’m a thirty year old child. I just want someone to think I’m cute and quirky and all I can think of is how great it would be to have someone send me flowers. I have damn near made a career of disowning the idea of love. I have told many that I don’t believe in it. I tell people that it’s bullshit. And it is. But only for me. I get to watch everyone around me fall in love. I get to watch everyone get married and have kids and get divorced and do it all over again. I just want one chance to be happy and in love, to find my missing piece. I just want something that will stop me from crying over how lonely I am.
I feel like I have an empty heart. I feel like my empty heart will never be filled. I feel sad. Years of therapy have taught me that. It’s taught me how to feel. And now, all I can feel is misery. I am lonely. It makes me sad. I have a wealth of friends, but I can’t get any of them to come over and be with me. And the ones I can count on live too far away to come over at a moments notice. I’ve made a career of a life pretending I’m okay when I’m anything but. Everyone has excuses why they don’t want to hang out. There’s never any place to park. They have kids. It’s too late. It’s a bad part of town. They just don’t want to. They’re busy. Always with the excuses. Am I not worth it? I’ve made friends with amazing people, none of them have time for me though. Even my supposed best friend will gloat about how great a friend she is, but when I truly need her, she’s never here. She has ditched me so many times for men and other friends. I’m just so lonely. All I have is my cat. I feel as though I will never have anything more than this. I can’t even dream for better. There is no better for me. There really is only this.
I don’t dream anymore. I’m not talking about the dreams you have when you sleep. I don’t dream about where I’ll be in ten years because I’ll still be here. I don’t dream about the career I want to have because I can’t have it. I don’t dream about who I’ll fall in love with because it’s no one. I don’t have the imagination for dreaming. Dreaming is for kids and youth and people who have their whole lives ahead of them. I don’t feel like I have much left in front of me. I feel like I have nothing. Everything feels so dark and hopeless. Dream big? No, there is only disappointment. Why aim big when I always fall flat on my face? And there’s never anyone there to pick me up. I would do anything to have someone there for me. I’d do anything to have dreams again. Not that I want to be young because my youth sucked, but I want to be able to see the dream in front of me and work towards it. And now that I’m thirty, I am able to see that I never did really dream. I jumped headfirst into college without having any idea of what I wanted to major in. I feel like I’m constantly wasting time while waiting for death to get here. And I think that’s the only dream I really have, to die. To finally end my time in this shitty world. I wasn’t made for this place. I don’t think I was made to last this long and I hate that I never killed myself when I had the guts. And now, all I do is sit here and wonder what I can buy to make me smile, even for a little while. I wonder what I can read to take me out of this world. I wonder about what to write that will make my life feel less like shit. I wonder who will pull me out of this miserable funk. I wonder who will help me the next time I ask for help. But I know that answer to that. It’s the same as it’s been for many years. No one and nothing. That’s all I’m worthy of. Shit I’m not even worthy enough for death anymore.
I was stupid. I always have been. I swore I’d be dead by thirty. I swore I wouldn’t live to see this age and yet here I am. Who am I? What am I? I fight for no cause. I don’t think I even fight for my own. I was eighteen when I (twice) swallowed a ton of pills just to die and was too stupid to know that I had to take more. I’ve spent my entire life failing, so it’s no shock to me that I failed at suicide too. I don’t want to be here anymore. God is playing a cruel trick on me, throwing mental disorders at me and watching as I crumble under the weight of sexual abuse. Please tell me there’s more to life than this, I beg to God. Please tell me that there is an end to this pain. Please tell me that it does in fact get better, and then give me proof. Please help me to find my path. Please just get rid of me. I’m not even sure what I’m doing here anymore. There is no love for me. There is no one attracted to me. There is too much lonesome in me. There are no more dreams for me. There might only be suicide. And I’m too chicken to walk down that road once more. But I fantasize and dream and I have the perfect funeral picked out for me if I ever decide to shed this body. I think the only thing I can feel anymore would be death. Otherwise, I’m sitting here, sad, lonely, pathetic, hoping that someone stumbles upon this dying rose and maybe offers to water.