Most people who die are emotional about it. I’m not. I give zero fucks. I’m not confused, I don’t need therapy to help me “figure it out” because I already fucking know. It aint rocket science, shit is simple.
I hate the fucking Suburbs, first off. I was not supposed to be born in this hellhole where fuck all happens. I belonged in the fucking city actually growing myself. But instead I just got the same houses over and over and over and the only time I’d see the real world was for a night on the town. Everyone here is the same. Nobody talks like they do on the streets, when you in the suburbs and you pass someone else the only thing to be said is “I’m white, I’m rich, And everything is okay” and keep fucking walking. It’s so fucking boring and I’d be okay with it if I hadn’t had my mind opened up by my experiences but I’ll get there don’t you fucking worry *****.
I always thought my dad was just the hardest worker ever. He got angry a lot at me, usually because I would just mess up and make mistakes at first. Then I embraced it. Got into fights. Fucked around in class. Teachers thought I had a disorder. But deep down I wanted to work hard, because my dad was never home, he was always working, either running his big business or winning poker games and investments to double that money. Then senior year rolls around and we move houses, down south, from one suburb to the next. Why did we move? My dad said it was because since I was off for college there was no reason for us to have such a big house. Made sense. But then came the truth about all that fucking “hard work” that inspired me to want to fix my family through my own hard work, try really fucking hard to make my dad less angry and my mom happy and my siblings fucking show some god damn respect before I snapped and just chokeslammed them both. But no. We did not move in order to help support me in college. We got enough fucking money. We’re rich and white. More on that next paragraph. We moved so my dad could be closer to us while living just one neighborhood over with his side *****. He’s been living SOMEWHERE ELSE for fucking decades and never told anyone but my mom, who I guess was okay with it. Apparently it was her idea. Its a long ass story I aint going there. Anyways then I started asking questions. Questions like “who is this *****? why do I gotta act like she’s my mom? why is he happy with her? why do I gotta spend 8 hours a day in a different house in which I don’t feel fucking safe? why does my dad care if I work hard if he’s separated himself from me in this way? why would my mom okay this instead of trying to solve the issues between her and my dad?” and the most important question of all: “what is the fucking point of my life now?” I failed in what I set out to do in fucking middle school. I will now forever go down as the scrawny white fucker who got mad all the time.
I don’t deserve to live. I’m a terrible person. I couldn’t make friends so I’d get into fights. I’d chase bitches around but only because other guys did it. Turns out, I like other guys. But the guy I liked doesn’t like me back and my dad thinks gay people are mentally ill so good luck dealing with it. And to top it all off, according to every news station I turn on, I’m the problem with America. Entitled, rich, white. Never mind the fact that I didn’t do half the shit they want me to make an apology for, but apparently the solution to the world is my ass dying. All I ever wanted to do was make other people happy, and lemme tell ya, I’m gonna make a lot of people happy doing 40 front flips as I fall on November 8th, after I put a vote in for Donald Trump, not because I agree with him but because maybe if he wins I’ll get the satisfaction of watching the news anchors that hate me so much ***** on television one last time before I die. I’m tired of being treated like shit, like I’ve never struggled, like I don’t have an identity other than evil or bad or untalented. My life philosophy has been simple from the start: shit happens. And man, currently, this is some shit that is happening aint it? Whole world’s at war with eachother, and I could care less. I’m only here to do what I SET OUT TO DO. Not some fucking politician or interest group. And what I wanted to do is a failure, so I guess I’ll just die.
It’s no big fucking deal to me, I ain’t a *****, I just do my best until there isn’t incentive. I might not make it past my first year of college, I failed a class in the first semester. Don’t really care. No point, it won’t fix shit at home. But apparently my life is so great according to others, I got nothing to worry about, my life is just TOO fucking great.
Well here ya go. I’ll let you win, but I won’t cry for you, punk bitches.
Anyways until then I’m gonna terrorize the world. Be it by art, or by fist fighting everyone I come across who even KINDA pisses me off. Y’all better stay in quarantine longer, or watch out for that white kid you thought was weak, he’s undefeated.
PS: You can challenge me too, I won’t hold back shit if you wont ;p