Don't Read This Post If You Can't Handle Being Told To Fuck Off

It is 11:15 in the morning and I’ve finally made it home. I spent the past three hours contemplating jumping out of a second story window with every intention on escaping the trap of a needless situation I had found myself in. Clearly I awoke from the fucked up side of the bed this morning, cause I have never felt such misery as I do right now. It’s pretty shitty.

While planning a get away route from my a.m., I realized, omg, I’m still running. Really? Still? Yes, still. Each and every day of my life, and guess what, I am no closer to any resolve or destination, I just run. Gotta keep up or…or…or, I don’t know. What happens if I just stop? I don’t know. These thoughts are making me feel empty, which is no good, because, like I said before, I contemplated jumping out of a window. That’s not healthy behavior, it’s a symptom of my truth. I am completely and totally ill. Fatally.

I learned that there are 152 names stored in my cell phone. I kept count as I ran down my contact list between thoughts of jumping out of windows. I never paused while scrolling through the list. Out of 152 people, I never stoppedscrolling. As you can imagine, this left me feeling painfully lonely. That window sure was enticing. 152 people. That seems excessive. I do not have 152 friends. I just don’t. Who the fuck are all these people? I don’t even care. Fuck them.

And fuck people who tell me I can get whatever I want. Me, anything. That sounds pretty good but, I know it isn’t true. I can prove it. If I could get whatever I want, shouldn’t I already have the one thing I want most? Well, I don’t have the one thing I want the most. I don’t have it and I can’t get it. I can’t get happy. To further my point, I don’t think people who can get whatever they want would be as concerned with the distance between window to concrete, as well as other potential bone breakage factors, as I happened to be this morning. Maybe it’s not the getting that’s the problem. Maybe it’s what I want. Maybe I’m just not one of those people who is supposed to be happy. Maybe I can’t handle happiness. Maybe this is happy. Maybe happy sucks. Maybe I’ve been happy my whole entire life and I really fucking love it so much . I don’t think a happy person who gets whatever they want would say that. Maybe that’s exactly what they’d say, I wouldn’t know.

So I’m an unhappy, window jumping fantasizing, compulsive phone number exchanging, homelessly homesick, emotionally retarded chick who's feeling a little angsty today. I’m bored with this topic. Thanx for reading.