It really bothers me that others have such massive control over my life. My happiness is almost always based on the happiness of others. I have completely lost myself. What does Leah want? What does she dream about? Hell if I know, my nightmares consist of murder and hate; my dreams are strange and meaningless. I need you validate my needs; tell me you think this is what I’m meant to do. And that’s not from anyone specific. I have taken the opinions of total fucking strangers and applied it my goals. They say I’m a good listener and might enjoy counseling. There it is, my new life goal.
You know what pisses me off the most? The fact that I will probably edit out half of the inconvenient truth, just so you don’t think I’m a bitch. I mean really, this is a blog. I’ve already managed to piss of one person because of it, in my defense, she is pregnant and probably crazy, so I really didn’t care. I didn’t write anything to hurt her. I just wrote it because I was inspired by the abundance of faith that exists over a stupid idea. Living in sin, pfff. I live honestly; I’m not trying to impress any mythological being. That’s not to say that I don’t believe in a “god” or a creator. I might even believe in Jesus, but I don’t believe he deserves my praise. I get no pats on the back for pooping everyday and managing to amuse myself. And that’s all we really are anyways, amusement for someone.
I want to say that I hate that my life has turned into a giant stepping stool. I’m glad I can support someone I really care about, but do I really want to do that for the rest of my life? I’m just going to die in about 40 years anyways, why spend a fucking day on someone else. I have no promise of tomorrow. I could burst into flames in my sleep. But Leah, you don’t have any goals of your own, why not live your life for someone else? Because that sounds like my definition of hell. To wake up every morning, go to work, smile, play nice, come home, smile, play nice. I don’t even feel like I can get pissed off about it. I chose this; I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I can’t say “oh well I changed my mind, deal with your life on your own.” I guess I could say that, but I would feel awful about it. Why would I feel awful? Because he would be sad.
I want to smoke something. Anything. Give me something to drink, something to take the edge off. Now, if you are standing on a cliff, and you're thinking about jumping, and someone takes the edge off, where does that put you? In the fucking rocks, that’s where.
Bleeding, in the fucking rocks.
What does this all boil down to, Leah? What is your fucking point? Give me a reason to feel decent after reading this. I don’t care enough to read this and not get a laugh or a cuddle or anything. I’m pretty sure you just made a “death by rocks” reference. What’s that about? They have hotlines for shit like that.
I am not going to kill myself, and much as I long for a reset button, I’m too worried about wasting my life, to waste myself. I would come back as an abortion if I did that. And that’s no way to be reincarnated.
Music.
Art.
Mother.
Fucker.
I don’t know. I only write like this when I have a sheet over paper I can turn round and round, covering every corner in ink. It’s not meant to make sense. I just write the word that’s punching me from behind the eyes.
What do I want for myself? I want to sing, by myself, in front of people. I can do either. I like feedback, but that comes down to me doing things for the benefit of others? Do they like it? Are they going to clap? Hmm, maybe I’m not so crazy. Lots of people sing for people. Maybe that’s a valid part of happiness; the happiness of others.
