What the hell am I writing? I am supposed to be sleeping but I’m here, wasting my time in front of a computer screen and whining about how insomniac I am. Well, I am not really insomniac. I just thought it sounds cool when I say that I’m insomniac and you all reading this will think that I am this disturbed little teenager who is going through the stage where he hates everything.
The truth is, I don’t hate everything. I hate the fact that I don’t know what I’m supposed to be hating. I have this negative emotion stacked up inside of me and I don’t know to what or whom I should direct it to. The feeling I’m having, I can’t describe because it’s so immature and child-like that I feel almost embarrassed that I’m talking about it here. Its like trying to figure out the answer of the universe and getting depressed because you can’t get a definitive answer.
The truth is, I’m just prolonging what I’m writing as an excuse to write something. I don’t really have a lot to say really, I just want to ramble on words that don’t mean and hopes I deliver some kind of awe inspiring message to anyone in the right mind who will read this shit. If by any chance, you read up to this point of this blog post, you are so like me. You don’t have anything better to do so you make up some weird hobby and try to write like the goddamn Shakespeare and act smart but weird in the hopes that people will find you mysterious. You know its true. I don’t blame you. The only people who write blogs are either bored to death or just plain normal people. Guess which kind of people I am?
Anyway, I am gonna pack up these shit and try to conclude this the best way I know how. Like this.
It is so depressing when you think about meaning of life and everything that revolves around you. The more you search for reasons and purpose, the more you see the irrationality of things. Of course there is no purpose. I know that. But I was hoping I’m wrong just so I can make up false hope that someday I will do the things I am supposed to do. It is so sad just thinking about how no one cares what you do in your life because you don’t matter. Even when I’m writing this, all that is running in my head is even though someone might read this and waste their time reading about some random loser in the internet babbling about his non-sense, they’ll forget about this after a few days. No one will remember me not because they don’t give a shit about me. They’ll forget me because that’s what people do. They forget.
And that’s just sad. It’s so sad to know that I am sad and there’s nothing I can do about it but just go through it. I wish there’s some button where I can just press it anytime I feel sad and then I’ll go to sleep and wake up only if I’m feeling happy. But it makes me sad that there’s no such button. It makes me depress that I think of impossible solutions to my problem because there is no possible solutions available to remedy it.
One thing that makes me sad is when I see a girl I really like in the move or in t.v. or in youtube and I know I won’t ever have a chance to meet her in person and even if I did, there is absolutely no chance she’ll take notice of me. I hate it that there’s nothing within my power that I can do to change that fact. I am stuck on the other side of the screen infatuating. And that makes me sad. When you look at the screen and you see a girl you like and get to know her and ask her out on a date and marry her but you know that life prevents you from doing that. Because I don’t matter enough to be given a chance to talk to that girl. And it depresses me to no end just by thinking about it.
You know what else is sad. The fact that no one will read this. And this will be just another crappy blog post that no one will ever get to read. Because no one really gives a shit about other people’s problem. Especially if they’re just some kind of creepy paranoia. And it makes me so fucking sad.