You know who sucks? Me.
I’m tired right now. It’s 7:19 AM, and I haven’t slept for more than around four hours, in scattered sections of fuck-you-zakaness.
I don’t want to fucking give a fuck right now.
At 9 AM, the alarm clock will sound. I will just turn it the fuck off. You see, my dad now has a damned place to work. This means that although one of my parents might come home early, at least I avoid the intolerably irritating morning shouting bullshit that I’ve stopped really caring about a multitude of years ago.
This thought of “hey, just skip work faggot!” came to me some minutes ago.
Frankly, it feels more or less like destiny at the moment.
You can tell me all the arguments you want to try to change my mind here.
The thing is, I know all of them. That’s because I constantly tell them to myself whenever something like this happens to me — look at that passive form! Not my fault, bro. Not my fault; just my fault.
Not doing what you should be doing while knowing you should be doing them, fully understanding your own hypocrisy, lies and simplifications, yes. I know.
It makes me feel like shit, but here I am.
This totally isn’t my fault.
And it is.