I fucking hate so many people on this fucking planet.
How the fuck are you cool? Really? You’re gonna use words like “fag” and “nigger” like it’s not a big deal? Fucker, you’re hiding behind a computer screen. I hope to god your get your fucking ass beat, all of you. It’s not “cool” to do and it’s not funny. It’s hateful. It’s cruel. And the fact that you can get away with it sickens me. Actually sickens me.
Why is it so fucking hard for you NOT to say it? Honestly? Are those hateful terms such a part of your vocabulary that you can’t even avoid using them? Are you that vile a person, that disgusting a human being?
The sad thing is, so many people are just that detestable. And the most disturbing part is that society is okay with it.
But you know what? I’m not.
You wanna fucking be a repulsive twat?
But don’t expect me to let it slide.
I don’t give a fuck who you are.
So here’s your warning.
You won’t get a second one.
I may not be the best person in the world, the prettiest, the sweetest, the kindest, the funniest, the smartest, whatever. But one thing I am? Loyal. And fucking damn proud. So you backstabbing bitches? You don’t just disgust me. No, it’s far beyond that. I find you absolutely revolting. Your presence on this earth is a waste of fucking space and I honestly hope you cry yourself to sleep each night over how horrifically detestable you are.
I was just thinking and trying to figure out what my biggest regret is. I realized, though, that I couldn’t pick one. I have so many, so many huge fucking mistakes I wish I’d never made. I dated an awful guy for nine months. I had sex with a friend I thought cared, but turned out to be someone else entirely. I tried to kill myself. I let my father down and wish I could be a better daughter so much. I’ve led people on, and hate myself for it every day. I let friends get away and still cry when I think of some of what I’ve lost. I’ve told lies I wish I’d never told. I said things I didn’t mean, wish I could’ve taken back.. I have so many things I wish I hadn’t done, so many things, and I can’t fucking figure out what the worst one was. What’s the one thing, above all else, that I wish I could change. That one thing changes, doesn’t it? I wanna say it’s my most recent mistake, but I think that’s only because of the timing. I’m over the other things. But I’m still hung up on my most recent regret. I guess right now, it’s my biggest one. But overall? I don’t know. I wish I did. I guess I should be glad there’s not one single thing that’s worse than everything else, not this one big, huge son-of-a-bitch mistake I made, but I’m not. It kind of feels like many of my regrets were big, son-of-a-bitch mistakes. It kinda feels like I can’t figure out what my biggest one is, because so many of them are so huge.
I try to be the best person I can, friendship wise, at least. I know a lot of people say that, but I honestly do. I try to be loyal, I try to be caring, I try to be funny, I try to be sweet… I try to be the shoulder to cry on and the person that’ll beat the shit out of someone for hurting my friend. I try to make my friends smile, make them feel happy and good about themselves. I try to give them someone and somewhere they can always turn to. I honestly try to be the best fucking friend I can, and I think a lot of times, I succeed. I am all of those things. But I still screw up so many friendships, still make so many mistakes. I’ve still lost so many people I cared about, still care about. I guess that’s my biggest regret, really. That I just wasn’t good enough, and will never be. That I can’t make everyone happy, and keep all of my friends. That I can’t fix everything. That I’ll always lose friends and always have to be terrified that each day is my last day talking to someone that means so much to me. I guess my son-of-a-bitch regret is that I wasn’t good enough for so many people, and I never really will be.
Fuck, that, no, no they don’t. First of all, I may be depressed, I may hate myself, but if I’m smiling, I fucking mean it. I don’t fake smiles, and I don’t like the fact that people actually believes everyone does. If I’m upset, I’m not gonna fucking smile to make the world think everything’s okay, because you know what? It’s not. Why the fuck should I lie about it? If you piss me off, if you hurt me, why am I going to pretend that everything’s alright? No, better question, why do OTHER people pretend everything’s alright.
The world is NOT going to fix itself, girls (and guys, really). It’s fucking not. So if you’re unhappy, don’t sit there and pretend everything’s fine and dandy, because it’s NOT. And it’s not just going to MAGICALLY get better. You have to work at it. You have to take part. And if no one knows your upset, if you’re so afraid to let the world know, how the hell is anything ever going to change? People will keep walking all over you, people will keep hurting you, because they don’t fucking know there’s anything wrong with it.
You know what? Just because the rest of the world is desensitized to your offensive nature doesn’t mean I have to be. You’re going to come to MY fucking tinychat and get upset when I ask you to change your name to something that’s NOT a derogatory slur? Yeh, I’m the asshole.
You want to do that shit, get the fuck out and do it somewhere else. Don’t act like I’m a child because it’s “just a word.” It’s not just a word. It’s offensive, it’s disrespectful, and I bet my fucking ass that you wouldn’t EVER say it to a black person’s face. Yeh. If it’s just a word, don’t hide behind a fucking computer to say it.
WISHING WISHING WISHING WISHING.
I’m shaking. I want to hit something. I feel like this is going to be my life, like I’m destined to be unhappy and dissapointed. I’m misanthropy at its finest, and I can’t stand it. I wish these voices weren’t so grating, I wish these kids weren’t so immature, I wish someone brushing up against me by accident didn’t make me want to throw them out a window. I don’t want to hate everything, I don’t want to be so unhappy. But I can’t help it. I hate these people. I hate the sound of their voices, so piercing and loud. I hate the shrillness of their laughs. I hate their inability to comprehend that they might not be the most important person on the planet. I hate their childish giggles and girlish squeals. I hate their tight clothes that manage to show off their bodies in all the wrong places. I hate the way they smack their gum, like it doesn’t matter if it’s annoying as fuck, they’ll do it anyway. I hate how they sing, good and bad, like the world wants to hear their songs. I hate the things they say, so poorly articulated, so badly thought out, so obnoxiously callous. They don’t think first. They just do, say, act. They don’t care who they’re affecting, they don’t care what they’re causing, as long as it doesn’t hurt them. I hate these people. I just want to get the fuck out of here.
Well, I was at my aunt’s house in Georgia and they found what they thought was a bomb under her deck. So they called… the bomb squad, I guess. And they told us it was one of two things:
it was a napalm
or an empty fuel tank
(cuz you know, those two things are the same…)
And they evacuated the whole neighborhood and took it away and never told us what it was.
(tell it again. tell it again)
Apparently, I’m really, really excited about my response.
I pictured myself in some gorgeous ballroom style dress, the biggest smile on my face, my hair straight, me looking really pretty. I thought it would all just work out. I never really considered the fact that I might not have a date. I didn’t believe it was an option. I always thought that I’d get one, somehow. I don’t know why I thought that. It’s not like I was given any reason to believe some guy would ask me… but I always thought I’d have one. And we’d dance together, and it would be the most magical night of my life.
The moment it hit me I won’t have a date, was the like moment one of those girls realizes they won’t have a groom. Or the money they need for their wedding. Or their perfect dress.
To me, prom is about having fun, but it’s also about sharing it with someone. It’s about the love, the magic, the wonder in the air.
And I’ll be going alone.
Like, seriously. So often I can tell there’s something someone wants to ask me, but they’re afraid to. I seriously don’t judge, and I don’t care what people think of me, so, why be afraid? The likelihood of me not answering is so tiny, it barely exists. I’ve had conversations you wouldn’t believe,…