For a long time, I’ve been having trouble trying to think up of concise words to express a certain emotion I’ve been feeling. It’s a depressing thought and I’m pretty sure I wrote about it in the early entries of the blog, back when I called it a suicidal autobiographical blog. Anyway, here’s the nice concise version of this thought:
(I had been unemployed and sitting around at home for a long time. People, particularly my parents, urge me to find a job because I need to earn a living.) I don’t even want to live, why the fuck would I want to work to live?
I was originally going to end this entry there but I like writing longer blogs and I figured out a few other things I want to write about. So I’m working part time at a library now simply because one of my friend’s girlfriend helped me apply (with my consent). It’s been 2 weeks now and I’ve been biking 7 km (roughly 4.4 miles) to and from work everyday. I had been riding a near decade old bike, that was shitty even when it was new, and now has misaligned tires, that scrape against the brakes, and brakes that don’t work. Given my passively suicidal state, the hunk of junk is actually a perfect fit for me. It greatly increased my chance of dying and I didn’t need to worry about people stealing it because it was a piece of shit. I laugh in my head just imagining the fool who steals this shit bike and gets pissed cause it doesn’t ride straight or die from not having brakes.
On my way to work today, a tire popped and now it’s a complete piece of shit that I couldn’t even make use of. I called home from work to let my parents know that I’m going to have to walk home so I’ll be later than usual. That sounds like healthy relationship behavior but I only do it so my mom doesn’t start crying and calling my friends like the last time when she literally nagged me out of the house… past midnight… during winter. That’s actually a whole story unto itself that I haven’t wrote about in the blog yet. By now, it should be clear that I don’t hold back at all. I only chose not to write about it because the story actually isn’t nearly as interesting as the synopsis.
During the phone call, my mom went hysterical and called me selfish for choosing to walk and making her worry. That’s pretty much my life summed up in my commute situation. If I walk, I’m selfish and worrisome. If I get a ride, I’m selfish and annoying and dependent and spoiled. I ended up getting a ride since it was just one night. I started making plans on buying a new bike right away because I’ll be needing it to get to work. But it was necessary because my problem solved itself for a change. It turns out that my cancerous uncle won’t be needing his brand new bike since he’s in no mood to ride it and he won’t need it once he dies, soon enough. Boy, I sure am lucky that my uncle got cancer. … I feel like people might call me a total douchebag for writing that last sentence but it’s just pure “moral” bullshit. Objectively, there’s actually nothing with it. Plus, I only wrote it to point out the irony. I couldn’t really give a shit about luck for mundane shit like a bicycle. A new bike costs what? $100? $200? Just this year, the government fined me more than triple that amount on a bank error (which the bank made) that I have no control over. Again, that’s another boring story that won’t be getting into.
If you ever catch me blogging about the bank story or getting nagged out of the house, then you will know that I have officially ran out of things to write about. Either that, or I found a way to make those boring stories really, really, REALLY interesting. By then, I better be famous or Jesus cause that would be a god damn miracle.
Oh, and just to show what a cunt I am, the free new bike is actually quite a burden for me. Now I actually have to worry about people stealing my bike. I liked it better when I rode a piece of shit that I wanted to get stolen.