RyuReiatsu
Smash Journeyman
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2009
- Messages
- 408
Link to original post: [drupal=1972]A blog like another.[/drupal]
Well, this is just a plain boring blog.
Don't bother reading. I'm just writing it to make myself feel better. Yeah, stop right there. Stop reading. Don't go any further. This will contain full of **** coming from a little whiner that pretty much has anything he wants in his **** world. This is a blog that comes from a little piece of crap.
Save yourself the trouble. Don't go reading any further.
Okay, you're still there? I've warned you. This is just going to piss you off.
1:21 AM, Awake. Depressing on a damp chair. Sulking in a dark room. Feeding this body with ice cream. Quantity? About as much as 3 medium bowls so far. I'll get fat like I used to when I was in elementary school, awesome.
I wonder, how long have I been awake today?
I don't remember. I don't really care either. Why am I writing right now? Oh right, I'm writing to try getting the depression out. Wait, am I really depressing? I might be an emo. Maybe I'm pretending, I can't seem to know the difference anymore. Is it me or is it just a phase? Unknown, that's what the answer will always be.
My life's pretty comfortable to tell you the truth.
Big house, in a suburban area. People all around, smiling and looking at me wrong. Oh, yes. They are white... and uncultured. I'm about the only yellow guy around here, I feel so special... 'rents pay my monthly train/bus pass. So I don't get to complain about how the f*ck I'm bored over here.
In the city, that's where I was living at ever since a year ago. 7 minutes from my school, if you would walk normally. 5 minutes if you'd walk quickly. And 3 minutes from it if you'd run. How comfortable was it... yeah. I miss the old time already. I'm homesick.
H o m e s i c k , it's been a year.
H o m e s i c k , I hate it around here.
H o m e s i c k , I have no real reason for missing the city.
This is ****, I repeat. Save yourself and run away from here as soon as possible.
D e p r e s s e d , girls are *****es. I've started playing them lately.
D e p r e s s e d , my friends are not real. They go out without calling me.
D e p r e s s e d , why am I like that?
My stomach hurts. I need to puke. Was there a particular reason? Oh yeah, Ice cream. Hmmm, yummy ****ing dip ****. So I spent my whole day working outside. With wood and ****s. For a house that I won't be living in for so long. Do it the Quebecois way! Yeah! Date, live together and finally break-up! My stomach is starting to ache. So fun.
What was I planning to write? . . .
*Tic Tock*
I don't remember. Great.
In any case, I should go see a doctor. And my mom knows absolutely nothing about my bipolarity. Yeah, she's always thought I was the most cheerful idiot in the world. My friend promised me we'd check on a doctor, but he let me down. For a girl. So I'm there, depressing and wondering: "Why are you so scared of going alone?".
And everytime, I answer myself: "Because you're not bipolar. You won't be. You CAN'T be."
Yeah, I'm that much of an idiot, putting a sticker on myself so I could say: "Hey, you might not see it. As when it happens, I hide somewhere alone. But I'm BIPOLAR MAN! I haven't had a diagnostic, but I know it. Because I want to believe there is a reason I've got such jumpy depressions!"
I should just hang myself.
Wait, if I can remember correctly... I've said so at least a thousand times in my head. Why don't I just do it? I don't enjoy ****. I don't want ****. I just want to 'look like this and that'.
Hell, this is the worst rant blog I've even written in my whole day. Might as well crash on my bed and hope I'll fall asleep.
Nights people.
Well, this is just a plain boring blog.
Don't bother reading. I'm just writing it to make myself feel better. Yeah, stop right there. Stop reading. Don't go any further. This will contain full of **** coming from a little whiner that pretty much has anything he wants in his **** world. This is a blog that comes from a little piece of crap.
Save yourself the trouble. Don't go reading any further.
Okay, you're still there? I've warned you. This is just going to piss you off.
1:21 AM, Awake. Depressing on a damp chair. Sulking in a dark room. Feeding this body with ice cream. Quantity? About as much as 3 medium bowls so far. I'll get fat like I used to when I was in elementary school, awesome.
I wonder, how long have I been awake today?
I don't remember. I don't really care either. Why am I writing right now? Oh right, I'm writing to try getting the depression out. Wait, am I really depressing? I might be an emo. Maybe I'm pretending, I can't seem to know the difference anymore. Is it me or is it just a phase? Unknown, that's what the answer will always be.
My life's pretty comfortable to tell you the truth.
Big house, in a suburban area. People all around, smiling and looking at me wrong. Oh, yes. They are white... and uncultured. I'm about the only yellow guy around here, I feel so special... 'rents pay my monthly train/bus pass. So I don't get to complain about how the f*ck I'm bored over here.
In the city, that's where I was living at ever since a year ago. 7 minutes from my school, if you would walk normally. 5 minutes if you'd walk quickly. And 3 minutes from it if you'd run. How comfortable was it... yeah. I miss the old time already. I'm homesick.
H o m e s i c k , it's been a year.
H o m e s i c k , I hate it around here.
H o m e s i c k , I have no real reason for missing the city.
This is ****, I repeat. Save yourself and run away from here as soon as possible.
D e p r e s s e d , girls are *****es. I've started playing them lately.
D e p r e s s e d , my friends are not real. They go out without calling me.
D e p r e s s e d , why am I like that?
My stomach hurts. I need to puke. Was there a particular reason? Oh yeah, Ice cream. Hmmm, yummy ****ing dip ****. So I spent my whole day working outside. With wood and ****s. For a house that I won't be living in for so long. Do it the Quebecois way! Yeah! Date, live together and finally break-up! My stomach is starting to ache. So fun.
What was I planning to write? . . .
*Tic Tock*
I don't remember. Great.
In any case, I should go see a doctor. And my mom knows absolutely nothing about my bipolarity. Yeah, she's always thought I was the most cheerful idiot in the world. My friend promised me we'd check on a doctor, but he let me down. For a girl. So I'm there, depressing and wondering: "Why are you so scared of going alone?".
And everytime, I answer myself: "Because you're not bipolar. You won't be. You CAN'T be."
Yeah, I'm that much of an idiot, putting a sticker on myself so I could say: "Hey, you might not see it. As when it happens, I hide somewhere alone. But I'm BIPOLAR MAN! I haven't had a diagnostic, but I know it. Because I want to believe there is a reason I've got such jumpy depressions!"
I should just hang myself.
Wait, if I can remember correctly... I've said so at least a thousand times in my head. Why don't I just do it? I don't enjoy ****. I don't want ****. I just want to 'look like this and that'.
Hell, this is the worst rant blog I've even written in my whole day. Might as well crash on my bed and hope I'll fall asleep.
Nights people.
