Fuck All

So, I finally figured out my problem. It's an attitude one, of course. And psychological, because everything is.

Anyway, I realized that I tend to go for things that I can control, like the internet! Gosh, how insightful. But anyway, I'm here because I control everything on this tiny screen. Tiny keyboard (in comparison). Tiny mouse.

Because, I can't control lots of things. (E.g. my mother, my father, and my brother. Also my teachers and classmates. Since they're just about everyone I interact with) So I settle for the internet, subconsciously. Nice choice, Helen, the internet is such a healthy alternative to running about with your friends.

I'll sidetrack a bit. I have many friends. It is a fact. People like me (cuz I don't give a shit about them so I don't criticize them until I really can't stand it anymore). But, seriously, I canNOT stand those amateur actresses with various complexes. God. If they want to act like a  whore or something for sympathy, please, do a good job.

Or I'll puke.

I have also realized that I tend to go for things that I CAN'T control - such as, um, music, for one. It's recorded, millions are listening to it, and there's not one shit I can do about it. I am SO addicted. I have five hundred plus songs as of today, and I only started the beginning of last year.

Anime too. It's there, and all I have to do is to sit back and let it all wash over me. Nice and relaxing, nothing to do because there's nothing I CAN do.

Paradoxical, huh?

Yeah, I know. I'm like that. In fact, I think maybe I should start a petition to have my picture next to the word in the dictionary.

But nevermind.

AND: *drumroll* The Reason Why I Don't Make An Effort.

Because, as I've said, I don't give a shit. I don't give a fucking damn. I don't care where my life goes, and that's fucking terrifying. Someone could kill me, and I'd know, and I'd not care. It's less effort than jumping off a building. (I can't find a good spot)

And most of the time I have next to zero emotion. I'm bored all the time, I have nothing to feel. It's way worse than not having anything to do.

So I write. I fill up the page with words and hope that the emptiness inside me will be filled too. Well, that didn't work too well, did it?

I'd like nothing better than to shut myself up in my room, play some melancholy music, watch some dramatic and intense anime (anime because the art and colours are nice), read a few scary and sad books, and curl up. (And die)

Yeah. I have no motivation. The world would hardly stop turning if I died.

Huh, I noticed that this post is rapidly becoming more emo by the second. Well, of course it is, I'm feeling damn sarcastic and (damn) do I feel like lashing out (at nobody in particular).

I also found out that I have a tendency to talk to myself, even when I post things. It's not that obvious, but it's scarily close to becoming a typed-out conversation. Great. On top of everything, I can't even keep my own stupid voices in my own stupid head.

Okay.

Just as I predicted, as soon as my mom worked out that I'd failed my chinese, she... better not talk about it, it pisses me off whenever I think about it. Needless to say, without even looking at my other results, she quickly decided that I needed fucking help.

From fucking her.

As if I haven't already had enough of the bitch.

I roll my eyes at her (privately, of course, so that she doesn't see and get something else to rant about - she talks waaay too much already, I will DIE if I hear anything more).

Huuuh.

Hiaz, why can't my life just be nice and easy-going, with parents that mirror my attitude of not giving a shit, but except not caring about life, they'd not care about me. It'd be nice to have parents who were just money-making machines. I'd be starved of interaction and love, but I think I'd live.

Basically, I want people to butt the hell outta my life. MY life. MINE.

NO FUCKING BUSINESS OF YOURS WHAT I DO WITH MY MISERABLE EXISTENCE.

So this is the result of me being motivation-deprived. A cranky and emotional girl with too many words.

(I've always wondered why the words always come when I'm all worked up and in no fit state to pen them down).

Damn, I'm messed up.

Damn, you're right, Helen.