Nothing fucks up your friday than to find it's only tuesday. Indeed so. And so I am today, feeling fucking grumpy as hell - but more than usual. I can't tell exactly why, but I feel it's the lack of fucking nicotine, which I'm trying, once again, to quit, but this time withiut any patches or whatever might would make things easier to this addicted brain of mine. Also, I'm out of sunshine(which would help, I guess), but at least somehow I've managed to find 10 bucks lying on the ground. Tempted me sincerely to just go to a newsstand and purchase a fresh pack of them coffin nails, but I've managed to steer clear of those until now. Can't say that it will last throughout the day, though - being a fucking vase gets on me nerves, makes me crave for a wau to speed up the long, dreadful 4000-seconds minutes I've got to endure while I do my "duty" - to be a fucking vegetable, ignored and left to rot in this fucking soulless job of mine.
"Then why don't you quit?" Then, I say, why don't you go fuck yourself? I can't be without this dreadful thing, as bad as it is, because I've got no other things to offer to the fucking "work market" of this fucking city. "Then why don't oyu go find a night course, or something that'll improve your chances? " Fuck you again. I don't want to. Nothing offered over there interests me at all. Let me rot in peace. Fuck off.
Indeed, I deserve to fuck myself off - because I've got no will to improve. And here, where I stand doing my job as a fucking lamp, I've got no motivation whatsoever to try an "chase after" a better occupation. Why? Because thare ain't no such thing around here. I've even tried to negotiate things with my Owner, but to no avail. "We got no jobs for a fucking biologist." So, I've gotta keep on this position as a fucking decorative thing, even though I'm fucking ugly as fuck, fucking grumpy as shit, you know. The usual me.
This so-called miracle I've been taking, just had one positive noticeable effect - it made me go back on exercising on a daily basis. That's the only thing that's actually improved since I took this thing. Nothing else is different. I'm grumpy, I'm broke, I tend to over-react to the slightest critic about such lack of motivation, I'm yet afraid of the fucking blank papers, I've got a somewhat yet deffective dick - sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't - And I still see into my future as giant black hole, sucking me off my remaining years, with no avail nor improvement on sight.
Bah. Humbug!
Nicotine is a hell of a drug, I see. More properly, the lack of, it turns this gigantic grumpy asshole onto a whole new level of self-loathing, self-pity, and whatnot. What a fucking intolerabe thing I become. Asshole, loser, motherfucking grumpy yet stubborn as fuck loser. Fuck me.
"Try to push the pessimism away!" - I still hear such advice, ringing on my ears. Fuck off. This is how I am - a fucking natural born pessimist. Changes? They're always, ALWAYS for bad to worse.
So, I hear both of my friends say - fuck you, rot in peace. And leave us alone.
That's what I am doing. Even though I gotta write about it, complain about it - it makes no difference anyways, since I'm, most of the time, talking to myself here - no one reads, no one cares. Blogging is dead, now that we've got Face"Fuck"Book, Whatsapp and whatever else I have no clue about - I don't access them, fortunately, for the sake of everyone else, who doesn't deserve to hear such endless pitiful comments on life I've got. I've got no smartphone, let alone money to buy one, I've got no fucking money to let me use 3G or whatever that's called - endless internet, wherever people go to and fro. Just take a bus ride - everyone's on the internet, mobile internet, everyone's seeing them endless meaningless posts off FuckFaceBook, everyone's talking to each other full time via whatsapp, everyone's connected. All. The. Fucking. Time.
Me? I guess the best thing I do - to myself and to others as well - is to keep it lowkey...keep it here, where so few read about my failed life, my failed plans, my fucked up mind, fuck me, indeed. At least, I bother a rather minimum of people while I'm at it - endlessly complaining about this or that, about how things seems to work for everyone else but me, about how this so-called miracle ain't fucking working, doing or improving almost nothing at all. At all.
But I gotta write, I gotta do something while I perform my duty as a houseplant, else I'll go fucking berserk again - and I'm not allowed to do that anymore, at least not while I am serving as a lamp. Because broken lamps, nowadays, I've been severely told by my Owner, are thrown the fuck away.
Fight it off. Improve yourself!
Improve thy fuck self. Fuck off. There is no improvement. Not to me, at least. Not while I'm yet stuck on this fucking fucked up state of mind. I've got no desire to go nowhere else than back to my fucking Tower, back to my dragons, back to my computer, even though I sit by a computer all day long while Im a vase. Because on my home computer, I've got films, I've got porn, I've got music, I've got everything that I cannot do while pretending I'm a fucking plant. Might as well learn to do photosynthesis. That would make me somewhat more effective round here.
"What a sad, fucking whining sack of shit this loser has became," some will say, and I can't help but agree. I'm fucking hopeless. Simple as that. The fucking drug almost done nothing to improve me, let alone my social phobia - I still hate fucking crowds, fucking people. And I've got no sesire to go out, not just because of that, but because I'm fucking broke as heel too- and there is not a thing I could do about it. My Owner refuses to pay me more, even something as low as 50 fucking bucks. I've gotta earn it- but then, HOW the fuck am I going to do that? Going to night school? Fuck off. Going to yet another university? Fuck that too. I can't afford that, let alone be out of a job while I try to do it. I just can't be without this already low salary of mine.
Then kill yourself and leave us alone.
That might be the one. And since there's another truth about me - I'm a fucking coward, I might just go and make these 10 bucks I found today useful- purchasing a pack of slow death smokeables. I'll do that, fuck it all. If I've gotta die, might get some kick outta death while I'm doing it.
Let's "improve" by doing that. Because the day is shitty as fuck, it might be more tolerable commiting slow suicide. Fuck. It. All.
