They’ll find me beat down, out in the universe.

February 15, 2011

I feel like:

I’m striving for something, and I have no idea what the frick it actually is.

I think it’s reassurance that I’m okay, that everything’s working out well, that I just need more time and that it’s okay that I’m happy with everything right now, even though I’m getting treated like a moron for it.

I noticed:

I don’t have a hobby.

The only things I really like a tremendous amount are socially related.

The only hobby I’ve enjoyed for an extended period of time is reading, because people can’t ruin it for me.

Older people can’t go, “WOW YOU’RE SUPER GOOD AT READING, LET ME GET INVOLVED IN YOUR LIFE AND BE GAY AND TRY TO CONVINCE YOU TO DO ALL THIS STUFF WITH READING TO MAKE IT SOMETHING DEEPER THAN IT IS.”

I guess I kinda like putting things together, like designing my walls and whatnot.

I like dogs. Maybe a pet can be my hobby.

I think:

I’m going to the gym tomorrow to get back in shape.

I might also spend some time with my parents, I never see those lovely people lately.

I should get a new tattoo or seven or twenty very soon.

I have come to find:

Most people are pretty retarded.

A lot of people probably put me in that category as well but that’s okay because I hate them anyway.

I am worried:

Because I feel like I don’t have good luck but I don’t have bad luck.

So I’m stuck wondering and hoping to god that I don’t get screwed over with this.

I have hope:

Because I think things will always end up working somehow.

I’m sure the starving people in Africa, etc, don’t agree.

But for a lower middle class white American teenager like me, I think I can manage with my pathetic problems. “P

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