F: Lone Mantis of the apocalypse

Thursdays suuuuuuuuck.

First off, I can't shake these vivid dreams. I'm sinking slowly into depression as I realize how isolated I have become, I lack inspiration, and I'm pretty worn out from the work/school schedule.

The isolation thing has got me down. I feel so cut off from the whole world. I don't know why these things bother me, but there are little things these days that frustrate the hell out of me. Little childish bullshit things that just gnaw away at me. Little, childish, multi-faceted bullshit that is pissing me off the more I think about it. I'm miserable! And should I even expect anybody to come along and give me a reason not to be miserable? No! Of course not! Nothing in my life lends itself to pleasure, and I don't expect that to change. I'm venting my frustrations. Deal with it.

Everybody's coming home this weekend, and I'll be fucked if I see anybody or do anything of note. Seriously. I suspect there will be no "nice to see you agains" for Mr. Williams, no delightful small talk on the transition from high school, no catching up of any kind. I'm simply fated to sit here on my ass and twiddle my thumbs. Not long ago I was getting to a point where I didn't think of myself as being on the outside. Pipe dream that was, wasn't it?

Don't mind me. These are just the delusional, paranoid ramblings of a deeply disturbed, disgruntled individual. I know people do read this, but seemingly nobody who needs to gets it. And I don't really care about that... whatever, I'm thankful for all the interest that has been takien in my mundane little musings, but it's important I think that I at least acknowledge the fact that I'm seriously not okay.

I feel like a mix between Travis Bickle and Biff Loman. And if you're fortunate enough to get both of those reference then God love you, because that just means you're cool.

I'm just so fucking frustrated! I need to beat the shit out of something (notice I did not say "someone.") I have all this pent-up angst and anxiety and I get no relief. And the world drags me down (Cult reference. I'm still me.)

I feel like a child for going on about it as long as I have (6 paragraphs and counting.) But hey, let's not forget whose name is at the top of this fershlugginer thing. Catharsis, man! Fucker! To think, I nearly opened my home to people. And I still would, if anybody had any contact with me whatsoever. But they don't, and so my Saturday night will be spent the same way I ever spend Saturday night... watching Eric flip between SNL, MadTV and TNA Impact. And fuck you if you can't dig it.

But don't mind me. I slept in this morning and had to skip my shower to catch Mitrovica's class. I mean, obviously I did end up showering eventually (after class, about 10) but the whole day was off for me. I didn't get a good lunch, and blahhh. To quote a great philosopher, "life sucks, blahhhh." Although I did my usual "hm, it's thursday and I'm bored, why not check out Rosser's drama class?" (although it started out as "hey, who's that sitting out behind the music room? Why, it's Janessa and Robyn!") I'm fucking exhausted, physically and emotionally.

And I don't mean to bring you down, but you know these posts crop up occasionally. Something happens, I blow it out of proportion... it's not like it's even directed at anybody. It's just my sick little roundabout way of complaining against my life... whether it's anything I can, could or am in a position to change, I prefer to bemoan it in this passive-aggressive little tome.

Like I said, I'm miserable. Happy-go-lucky Scotto went on vacation, and left his bitter, lonely, psychopathic twin behind. Deal with it.

Fuck.

Keep on rockin'
...Williams.