Another shitty story.

Figured I’d vent on a perfectly nice Saturday afternoon since it’s not like I’m gonna be doing anything else for the rest of the weekend. To start off, I don’t have any tragic or sad past. I’ve never had a near death (or near life, for that matter) experience, never been molested by a strange uncle in a Garfield mask, never had some heartbreaking-ly awful romantic incident. Just a boring white male who’s lived a trite and meaningless life.

I wouldn’t say I’m depressed in a traditional sense, I don’t spend hours in bed trying to get up or experience general lethargy, but I sincerely want to die. I’m 21 years old, and it feels like I’ve done nothing with my life. Everyone else has moved on to a real college (community college doesn’t count, if the students are generally older than the teachers, you aren’t in college, you fucked up and have to spend at least two years in academic purgatory), all my friends are gone. I see them maybe three or four times a year, and nobody really makes friends at a community college, especially when you’re the archetype of introverted loser who barely makes eye-contact in a class full of kids and parents who don’t wanna be there.

It’s not that I’m sad about how my life’s turned out, I just don’t really feel like trudging through another 5 years of bland, lifeless existence. I bought into that “it gets better!” stuff since I was at least 12; middle school and high school do wonders for breaking down your self esteem and confidence, and for me, it never recovered, if anything, it’s gotten worse. I’ve spent basically the years after general education ended fighting the urge to commit to the idea of dying, and it’s finally come to the point where I just don’t care to be alive, I don’t have the drive to really “change my life around” anymore. Thinking positive was something I never understood, and as poor a self-esteem as I have, I don’t think I’d wanna change into one of those people that viciously smiles at anyone that hooves into their field of vision. I like being this little, pessimistic socially awkward loser that I am, and if I’ve decided I don’t wanna wait out the bad decades of my life, then I should have the right to die in any way I see fit as long as I don’t do any harm to anyone around me in the process.

The big problem in this equation, of course, being my parents, whom are the only people that have ever cared about me and tried as best they could to help me when I had any kind of noticeable problems either mental or physical. I think that’s the main reason why as much as I would love to get a high caliber hand gun and drive off into some secluded woods and just be done with this mess, that I probably never will. At least, not until long after the “best years of my life” have turned into another sad lump of my 20’s and 30’s when my mom and dad are dead and my siblings have long moved on and gotten real lives far away from this dump. I know this all sounds very depressing, but I don’t really feel sad writing all this out, I’m just not happy with living, and I don’t ever recall a time when I didn’t have at least apathetic thoughts about life in general, not that I haven’t had fun in my 21 years alive, but overall I’ve spent most of my life as a spectator, observing how people around me act, and in the process I think I forgot how to live… that part took me a really long time to write because I don’t know what I fucked up along the way, but something definitely has gone very wrong in developing people and life skills in general. Maybe it will get better, but seeing how especially the last 3 years have turned out, I’m not hoping for much.

If anyone actually read all or even skimmed over this comma spliced shit, you have more free time on your hands than I do.