I Ruin Every Family Event I Make Everyone Upset I Keep Messing Up I Can’t Take This

a belief i hold with fervor is that there is no collective “best” of anything, it’s all objective.

obviously some things can be measured by their success, or efficiency, or attraction, but the idea of greatness, or first place, is completely objective. everyone will hold different things to different standards.

i say all of this because i think most people who love believe that their love interests are the most divine humans on the planet, and i don’t think they’re wrong.

i think a bunch of people can be the most divine people on the planet if they’re just considered the “most” divine by one person, because love has no rules and we’re all in our own conscience anyway.

moral of the story is that everything and everyone is uniquely significant and loved among every individual and i think that’s beautiful, and if something is “the best” to you then it just is the best. because it’s you, and your life type shit

It makes me so insanely pissed that people care

I know it sounds stupid and self loathing and it is

But I don’t understand why people still stay with me despite how fucked up and neurotic I am

I feel like I do nothing except make my problems other peoples burden

Take this stupid fucking account for example

All I do is bitch and whine

I’m sorry you have to be around someone like me

I’m sorry that I hate myself so much that it bleeds out of me in every way possible

I wish I was different so bad

I wish I could be a better friend

I wish I could be a better brother

I wish I could of been a better son

I wish they didn’t die only knowing me as their daughter

I’m sorry that this is such a big part of me

I’m sorry none of this makes sense

I am in so much pain

Grief is such a peculiar phenomenon. It truly alters every single aspect of your life. I don’t think there’s any part of my life that was left untouched by my grief.

I truly lost touch with reality after my parents passed. And I believed for a long time that my parents were gone, dragged back into the earth with words left unspoken, and nightmares put to rest; but as time has escaped me, I have been disproven. My parents may be ash now, but I see them everyday in myself. It’s horrifying, and sometimes beautiful. All of my life I’ve been told I act and look just like my father, and while that remains true, my mother’s venom has snuck its way into my behavior. I constantly feel like I’m fulfilling their doomed prophecies for myself now that they’re gone.

But I know that it doesn’t have to be that way. I know I can change and I need to allow myself to sit with this, instead of running and running and running. I am so tired, and I need to stop giving up on myself. I may lick my wounds like my dad, and I may carry my mother’s temper, but I don’t have to *be* them. I can be better. I hope I will be better.

I make myself fucking sick dude

I hate being in this body

It’s getting bad again

tldr; i need to get the fuck out of my head

the idea of it is so liberating, quiet, and eternal; yet at the same time it is so horrifying, parlous, and uncertain.

i am a phony man, a paper tiger. sometimes i feel like i walk around with a plastic trophy of survival on display, presenting myself as some sort of phony symbol of courage, of survival. i walk around with glass skin, fractured and stained, and i know people see the cracks. i know i am breaking. you do not have to gaze upon me with such contempt. i am a sunbittern, flashing my wings, making myself look big. to protect myself? maybe, that’s what i like to tell myself, but i know it boils down to attention. it boils down to my sickening desire to be seen as something more than i really am. i make my trivial successes seem like home-runs, i make my words sound more significant than they really are, and i make my survival sound more epic than it really is. i am a liar, a con man, with my immaturity and pseudo-boy mentality. i was born a liar, and i will die one.

i guess there’s not much to tell that hasn’t already been told. i was forged in a broken household seemingly forgotten by god. i was raised by a broken man with skeletons, and bottles alike, in his closet, and a woman sipping whiskey and spitting violence between her prayers; both killed by their poisons. i used to take strikes at the hands of those who were supposed to protect me, with my body tallying the score. i still feel it, you know. that fear. i feel it all the time, like i’m just waiting for the next blow. i know this is odd, but sometimes i wish they were still around to hit me, i wish i had more proof than distant memories. i wish i had something more than a faded recollection of my mother’s venomous words and firm hand, and my father’s brutality. the only proof that’s substantial is buried in my flesh. however, i forgive my father, sometimes it seemed like he was just a scared boy in a worn man’s body. my mother on the other hand, is not so easily forgiven. her wrath and rage ran deep, and when it was fueled by the liquor, it was hard to believe a mother was supposed to love like that. but she was a girl too, alone and fatherless. i think about her as a girl and it makes it harder to believe she was so cruel.

i don’t really know the point i’m trying to drive home. i just feel so behind, and i’m constantly running out of time. every second that passes is a moment of time i’ve lost, and the overwhelming majority of them are wasted. i waste so much time smoking pot but it’s the only thing that makes me feel okay. i can’t do school, i can’t take care of myself, i can’t properly care for others, and i can’t seem to clean my room no matter how bad i want to. and i know it’s a whole mindset thing blah blah blah, i’ve heard it all before. i know i’m not getting much better at all, and i know the habits preventing me from doing so, yet it feels like i’m completely trapped in cycles. i am so tired. and this is a bunch of word vomit bullshit and i don’t think anyone will read this far. but i am just so fucking bad at being human dude. i am a complete failure. i have accomplished nothing, and i don’t know how to be alive. i don’t understand things that most people do, and i just can’t seem to do anything functionally these days.

i guess for now i won’t seek out what is beyond our existence, but the thought of doing so taps at the back of my skull to the tune of gymnopédie no. 1, a haunting constant in my mind.

i just wish i was normal so bad man

when intense sadness is a regular part of your life, you stop caring entirely about how it makes you come across to people. i’m literally sitting in class sobbing like it’s normal. people are staring, but it’s just hard to care anymore. like yeah, i’m losing my shit due to the horrors. look away bro

who up about to ruin they own night

Fluid

Retention

In

Every

Nice

Dude

Super

We all make mistakes just some of us bigger and worse and scarier ones than others