Grown

I’m not sure if this whole adult thing is going to work out for me. It seems way to tedious and boring for a guy like me. What the fuck do I need with a 401k? I’ll never be able to spend it cause I’ll be dead. No way I’m making it that long. Be lucky to see next year, we aren’t planning past then. Shit we ain’t planning till then either. We ain’t planning shit. Mentioning 9 to 5 career type jobs, mortgage payments, credit scores, background checks, even leases and utility bills all make my skin crawl. The thought of setting down some roots is laughable. Stability? What the fuck is that? Structure? I’ll pass. The responsibilities I want have been stolen or I’ve been judged unworthy of the job and so fuck the responsibilities you want me to have, I’ll pass on that shit too. I’m pretty sure that the blood in my veins has some Gypsy in it, cause I’m tugged and pulled nomadically from place to place. Never quite feeling comfortable anywhere and so always feeling an urge to move on. On to the next one. Or maybe it’s rabbit blood cause I do really like to fuck. Regardless of the blood type I oftentimes feel like I’m afloat, drifting with whatever gust I can get ahold of. Aimlessly floating through this life. Can I get a mulligan? I think this one’s broke can I get a new one? Impatiently awaiting a flash that should of been here years ago, then I remember that there is no death and that I can’t die. I’m immortal. This body will eventually rot away on me but the essence that is me is eternal. It can not be destroyed. It’s on an eternal loop, around and around and around. Groundhog’s Day. A pointless exercise in futility. My nihilism is somewhat debilitating at times and I can tell you it does nothing for my chemical imbalances, stoking my anxiety and depression. Dulling my drive and motivation. Leaving me no reason to make any plans, stealing even the desire to do so. I sometimes think about killing myself. I mean, why wouldn’t I? I’m pretty unhappy with the way things have played out, I don’t feel like I ever even really got a chance. I think I may have been screwed from the beginning, having been born to all of this, for all of this, then actually this is God’s plan and it is fair. Maybe I do deserve all of this pain and suffering. As far as I can tell, that’s all that life really is anyways, pain and suffering. I’m good to go whenever. I’ve been good for a while, actually I’ve been overdue. If not for my mom and the fact that it would fuck her up something fierce, I wouldn’t hesitate to off myself, shit I can think of all kinds of reasons to do it and not a lot that would argue against it. I’m exhausted from the bullshit that’s been my life. I’m over all of the lame ass fake ass people, with their judgemental assumptions and their tendency to talk out the side of their necks. The fact that people just can’t be trusted. Unless you’re trusting them to fuck you up, you can probably count on that. But the quality of people anymore has gone south quick as fuck. People care only for themselves and their own struggles, not giving two fucks about your problems and only getting involved in the first place because they have a hidden agenda and it furthers that agenda to fuck with you. Relationships don’t have the value that they used to have, people finding it makes better sense to just toss your ass out and get a new one, instead of investing anything into something that’s not for sure and building with someone when you’ll probably just be let down anyways. I don’t think we connect with other people anymore, not really and truly. That we are just moving along and that everything is pointless and wasted. All the things that you had hoped to be legit and true, all bullshit. Nothing matters. Especially you. Dreams are just a cruel joke. Things won’t get better. There is no happily ever after, and the American dream is nothing more then a scam. You can drink the Kool aid and it will basically numb you to what’s going on, allowing you to continue to work and feed the machine. But the Kool taste like shit, even with me being as thirsty as I am I can’t figure out how to choke it down, leaving me outside looking in. An outsider, some kind of freak.

Published by devilmonkey666

I'm a hot mess. A 41 year old child who still doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up. Or even if he wants to grow up for that matter. People say I'm a writer. I'm not so sure. But it is therapeutic and helps me from going all the way left sometimes.

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