It's All Shit

The antidepressants aren't working.  I hate life.  My life is pathetic.  I have no friends.  I don't even understand the concept of friendship.  I'm 100% sure that it's cruel to bring someone into this world.  Life is torture.  This society is so fake, so false.  People put a fake smile on, but there's so much misery.  I know I'm not the only one.  I'll be alone for Xmas again.  I'm always alone for the holidays.  I don't know what to do with my time.  I read a little.  I watch TV.  I tweet.  I exercise.  I'm just going through the motions; none of it brings any real satisfaction.  I should have killed myself a long time ago.  My life is a bad deal; it's consistently shitty.  I have very little hope that my life will get better. 

Kill Me, Mom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I want you to kill me, mom!  I, of course, don't mean you personally.  You can't do anything right!  You can't even screw in a lightbulb without quitting and asking someone else to do it!  Pathetic!  Maybe that's all part of the reason why I'm a fucking mess that's praying for death!  I want you to find whatever doctor replaced Dr. Kevorkian, and get him or her to do it!  I already tried to hang myself, and I failed!  I'm worried that if I jump, I'll survive!  And then I'd really be fucked (with every bone in my body broken)!  No, I want to die, peacefully and painlessly, in my sleep.  You brought me into this world to suffer, and now I want you to take me out of it!  I'm sure I've had enough!  Do it!       

Seeing Yourself

Do you ever see yourself?  I mean in a sort of literal sense.  For instance, you're lying on the couch, watching TV, and you step outside yourself a little bit.  You can see what you look like.  You imagine that you're someone else (or, somehow, still you), in the room, looking at you from approximately 8 feet away.  I think it can be a helpful exercise.  It can help you realize how you're wasting time and/or what you're doing that you don't really want to do (or spend less time doing).  I don't like to see myself lying on the futon, watching TV.  It's pathetic.  I'm doing nothing.  I'm inside (I've written, over and over again now, that it's better, more natural and therapeutic, to be outside, but, of course, most of us don't want to always be outside.) and I'm looking at a screen.  I know why I do it.  I like movies and TV shows, but only if they are genuinely worth watching (Many aren't.  I have a 30-minute rule.  I will watch a movie or a TV show [on DVD-I don't have cable] for 30 minutes, and, if it has failed to grab me by then, I will stop watching it and move on to the next one.  There are exceptions.  I recently gave Easy A less than 30 minutes before pulling the plug, because it was, in my opinion, made for people much younger than me.).  I also read, and I'd be better off doing that, but my current setup makes it less comfy to do that.  Although I probably could fix that just by moving a lamp.  There's also the issue of my asshole neighbors.  Their loud TV comes right through the wall we share.  If I'm reading, there's nothing to drown out the sound they make.  If I'm watching TV, then that noise will battle the sound they're making.
Another place I hate to "see myself" is at work.  I hate what I do: what I am 40 hours a week.  It's depressing to stand outside myself and see me doing what I do to pay the bills.  I don't even like to watch other people doing what I do; it's an unpleasant reminder.  So you see how this can be a helpful thing to do.  It lets me know that I don't like my job (I can get another one.), and I don't like watching as much TV as I do (I can watch less and read more.).
I don't mind seeing myself sitting at my computer, probably because I'm usually doing something at least somewhat constructive.  The issue there is stamina.  I can only sit there for so long, before the pain becomes unbearable (I don't have a laptop; it's a desktop.), which is why I adjourn to my futon to watch TV.  I also don't mind seeing myself exercising.  Exercise is very important: for both physical and mental health.  I don't mind seeing myself outside at all: even if I'm just standing around and looking at some trees.  There's nothing wrong with that; it's natural.  It's soothing.  Time spent in nature is time well spent.           

Trapped

I am trapped

in this skin
in this broken body
in this damaged brain that is afflicted with depression and OCD
with these ears that are always ringing
in this shitty, painful life
in this dirty apartment
in this suffering situation
in this shit "career"
in this sad, pathetic existence
in this sick society
on this ultra-violent planet of misery

Fakebook and Shitter

Two very popular social networking websites, that shall remain nameless here, I'll refer to as Fakebook and Shitter.  I'll admit that, on Fakebook, I have quite a few fake friends.  They're not real friends.  I don't really know them.  And I'm not the only one: not by far.  So tons of people have fake friends.  Why do I have fake friends when I claim to be so real?  I only joined Fakebook and Shitter to promote my writing.  It hasn't worked out so well.  It's no surprise, though.  The average person would rather stare at their phone than a book.
Technology has gone too far.  It's got people staring at their phones like zombies.  I'd rather look at a beautiful sky than the screen of a smartphone.  Who can get the most "likes?"  What a pathetic culture; what a pathetic society.  We're going down the tubes with this shit.  And, of course, if we do, the animals will be much better off without us.  What do they need us for?  Beatings, torture, and murders?  I don't think so.  Long after we're gone, the rain will make grass, plants, veggies, fruits, and trees grow (if we haven't completely destroyed Earth by then).  Even "man's best friend" has been devastated by humans: the price to pay for trusting evil, violent people.
Which segues into the shitty things I've had to hear at work.  A guy (I refuse to call him a man.) was buying rat traps.  "My neighbors keep feeding chipmunks, and I keep killing them," he said to me.  So confident he was in his cruelty.  Surely most people are chipmunk haters, is perhaps what he was thinking when he said that to me.  What did I say?  I either said, "oh," or I said nothing.  I'm not completely sure.  I'm trying to survive.  I need this job to do that.  I have contemplated being homeless in the wilderness and have concluded that I can't live without the resources needed to wipe and wash my ass (the OCD).  I have officially filed for bankruptcy.  There is no relying on credit anymore.
Another guy was buying quite a bit of charcoal.  He told me that he cooks a whole pig.  Again, he said it with such confidence.  What person, after all, would care about a pig?  ME!  I have cuddled with, and petted, pigs.  They, along with every other animal, deserve to be treated well.
I don't know how I make it through the day.  My pain, physical and emotional, is enormous every single day.  I was watching a good movie.  It was about spies.  This man said to a room full of them, "If you're caught, just prick your skin with this pin we've given you.  Death will be instantaneous."  I was very jealous.  I wanted one of those pins.