Oh, Marla

"This isn't a for real suicide-thing. This is probably one of those cry-for-help things."
Often times I get bored with the current state of my life. I fall asleep. I dream. I dream that I wake up in a hospital bed. I dream that people are there, paying attention to me. People are there with actual concern for my well-being. The focal point for my dream is always my flavor-of-the-week. Whatever girl who just so happens to be the object of my desire, she's sitting there, caring for me. Talking to me. Keeping me company. In my fucked up head, a suicide attempt is what it takes for a girl to notice me.
Someone needs to kick my depressed little ass.
I need to kick my ass...

Finding Negativity in Positive Places

I've been in this rediculously good mood for a while now. But, now I'm even bored with unjustified happiness. That has to be the most depressing sentence ever. Something needs to happen. Something needs to continually satisfy me. Stephen Schmuldt once wrote, "I want to reach out and grab complete strangers by their souls and I want them to do the same for me." Anyone wanna grab mine?

Ed is an emo kid

I need inspiration
I want to inspire
I want to be the one you quote
The one to make you sound deep

I want perfecetion in my thoughts
I want reality in my dreams
I want pride in my creation
I want complacency

I want talent
I want drive
In all honesty
I just want something

We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world

"We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our great war's a spiritual war. Our great depression is our lives." Tyler Durden
I read the writings of my peers, and I see sheer brilliance. It saddens beyond reason to know that the prose of those close to me goes largely unnoticed. People like the Farrelly Brothers and those assholes who write those shitty movie parody movies make millions, and the literary prowess of the youth remains an untapped resource. The lack of taste in the masses never ceases to anger me.

Maturity? Overreaction?

Sometimes I forget that I'm entitled to my own opinion and that I have the right to make my own choices. Perhaps I'm too nice, or perhaps people see me as spineless. Either way, I've been noticing lately that some people treat me as more of a doormat, a stepping stool towards their own devices, than a friend. The sad part is, I had grown complacent to the newer, nicer me. But at this point in time, I do not know if being that person is going to get me anywhere as far as respect goes. I guess you can say there's been a tumor on my demeanor for a few years, and it's turned cancerous lately. Do I cut it out, or do I treat it?

Too good to be true? Of course

Anyone who knows me knows I am far from the most metally and emotionally stable person in the world. However, for about five days (up until about 7:30p.m. today) things were going very well. For the first time in almost six months, I was truly happy. Those days are no behind me. I'm back to my old self-loathing self now. All I can say is fuck people who have to interject their two cents about someone else's relationship. The one of you probably reading this, please tell everyone not to fuck with me for the next few days.

The end of an era (or perhaps the beginning of a new one)

From this point forward, My Space shall no longer be the website I use to spread my eloquently simple, overly whiny, possibly distorted world view. With that said, I decided one minute ago that I whole-heartedly support euthanasia in the case of elderly animals. My 15 year old dog has regressed from his house trained days and randomly defecates wherever he (cannot) see fit. Every time before, it was on a bare patch of floor, where no real damage could be done. But this time, the shaky, blind son of a bitch squatted on one of my nicest and cheapest articles of clothing; a thirty dollar pair of Nike's, normally priced at around eighty dollars. Seeing a literal steaming pile of shit on my shoes instilled a rather large quantity of frustration in me. Had my family not been in the room, I would have kicked him right into the alley, with a clean pair. Thankfully, the genius of Kings of Leon has sufficiently calmed me to the point of mere passive-aggressiveness.

Open forum about my unnecessary anger?