themadking

I've never understood people.

Today, I did the same thing I do every other day. I woke up, pissed around, and went to work. Then I came home, did stuff, and am about to go to bed. Every day is the same. All my life's a circle.

I've got the familial disease of "it'll be better later." All of my good stuff will happen in the future. I'll have my own apartment... in the future. I'll have a real job... in the future. I'll have real money to spend... in the future. It may be true, it may not be true, that's not the point. The point is there are plenty of people who are doing what they want to be doing right now. There are people my age who have real jobs, who have real apartments, who have at least a little more money to spend. What's wrong with me that I can't seem to wrap my head around that?

I'll tell you whose fault it's not: anyone else's. I'm sick of people blaming other people for their problems. I used to do that, and one day I stopped, looked around, and realized that no one was fucking my life up but me. Of course, I didn't stop fucking my life up as soon as I realized this, but it did help my disposition. Now I hate everyone for no good reason instead of for the reason that they were fucking my life up. Smart, huh?

So that's it for now. Hopefully someone reads my journal still, and doesn't just read it so they can post negative things. Oh, yeah, did I mention my delusions of grandeur?

Things to remember: Jazz music, old-style record players, the way she smiled at me.

Things to forget: the dead raccoon, the smell of burning corn, my great-grandmother's eyes.