False Resentment

It’s easy to resent people for not accepting you when you’re not at your best. But at the same time, I can’t really blame them. If/when I get successful and girls from my past start getting more interested in me, I would wonder where the fuck they were when I needed them the most, like right now. But then nobody would want to be with a shitty excuse of a person like me right now so it’s not really their fault either.

When you’re in a better place, you won’t resent the new people you meet because they did not reject you when you were at your low. But they didn’t have to because they never got to see it. If they saw you at your low, they would probably reject the shit out of you. Chances are, the old friends you resent are actually better friends to you but emotions trick you into hating the ones you should love and loving the ones you should hate.

My Life’s Paradoxes Part IV

This entry is a bit different than the rest. I just want to write some crap right now and not worry about how it comes out. No planning. Just gonna write whatever’s on my mind and I’m just going to assume my raw thoughts are interesting enough to be read. Oh wait, that doesn’t sound any different than what I normally do.

Sometimes, I’m so smart and think of so many possibilities that I act upon one of the non-obvious ones and it ends up making me look stupid where I wouldn’t look stupid if I just did the obvious thing. A quick example would be seeing a gap in a closed doorway and assuming that the door isn’t fully closed so I don’t need to turn the door knob, but it turns out I still needed to turn the knob and I walk straight into a closed door like a dumbass. If I just turned the fuckin door knob regardless of the gap, the obvious approach, I wouldn’t have looked stupid. Maybe I’m not a smart person who looks stupid. Maybe I’m just a total dumbass who dumbassedly thinks he’s smart even though he’s not.

In the past, I’ve frequently written about my virginity and my (arguably confused) sexuality. Even though I’m always horny, I think sex is pretty gross. When I watch porn, I’m only interested in softcore lesbian porn. But that’s too specific so I usually just watch normal lesbian porn and enjoy the softcore bits and get grossed out by the actual sexual parts. I don’t think I would enjoy sex but I’m jealous that other people gets action. I’m basically just a dick who wants everyone else to be as miserable as I am I guess.

A lot of people work 9-5 jobs, but I work a 5-9 job. Really, it’s true. I work part time from 5pm to 9pm. I’m not trying to be funny. Actually, I am trying to be funny but I don’t want to admit that because I know it’s not funny. That was just a stupid non joke.

A lot of people seek their parents’ approval and working part time at a minimum wage job at 22 is quite a disappointment. But that doesn’t bother me because I don’t seek my parents’ approval at all. In fact, I think I crave their disappointment. Because I dislike and disrespect them so much, I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of having raised a person who leads a successful life. Maybe I’m only being a miserable and depressed piece of shit out of spite towards my parents.

With all the crap I write about my parents, I will go on record and say that they’re not bad people, they’re just bad parents. …Whether a person is good or bad pretty much depends on the result of their action and they produce shit results, just look at me. I guess they are bad people, but they don’t have bad intentions. Intentions don’t really matter if they consistently yield bad results though. Actually, I don’t know my parents enough to really know their intentions so maybe they are bad people after all.

I honestly believe my parents are total dumbasses who might be borderline retarded. Maybe not even borderline. Although I’d like to think I’m smart, considering my lack of accomplishments and that I’m raised by two retards, I’m probably retarded too. And if that’s the case, you just read an entire article that some retard wrote on a whim so I don’t even know what that makes you, you retard lover. Oh I just answered my own question. And if you hate me, then you’re a retard hater and know that that makes you a bad person. Mwahaha, I just antagonized everyone. …all the 10 people who reads this.

… I don’t think I should end like this… I gotta fix this. Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I’m not retarded so you’re not a retard lover. Or even if I am retarded, you don’t love me so you’re still not a retard lover. Whatever the case, you’re not a retard lover. No one is. Retard lovers don’t exist. Who could love a retard? Yup, everything’s fixed. I retracted my insult while simultaneously writing something insensitive, ignorant, and dickish. Perfect.

My Life’s Paradoxes Part III

Just thought up another handful of paradoxes today so I thought I’d write them up. The first one would be me continuing to update this blog right after my entry last night saying that I might stop blogging.

I ran a lot of errands with a friend today and we were planning to eat lunch. He wanted to do some banking before that and asked if I was dying to eat. That got me thinking. I’m never dying to eat. I could be dying from hunger and I still wouldn’t be dying to eat. It actually pisses me off when people whine about needing to eat. Go eat shit. Okay, I went way off track…

In the past, I have been extremely selective and picky with the girls I think about asking out. Lately, I noticed that I’ve lowered my standards a lot. In my mind, I convince myself into thinking that uglier girls might be easier targets and easiness adds to how much I’m attracted to them. In reality, uglier girls aren’t easier for the most part so I’m basically just lowering my expectations for no reason. I made myself out as such a jerk so you might be happy to know that karma is doing its job and I live a shitty life and never gotten close to getting laid.

It might be hard to believe what I’m about to say coming from a cynical dick like me, but I want kids. I want kids, but I don’t want shitty kids. I have no idea how to not raise a shitty kid so any kid I raise would probably end up shitty. That’s why I don’t want kids.

This last little bit isn’t a paradox, but I just woke up from a dream where my parents pissed the shit out of me. It isn’t the first time this happened either. Even in my dreams, my parents won’t leave me alone.

My Life’s Paradoxes Part II

My previous entry on paradoxes of my life was one of the most liked entries so it makes me happy that I thought of more paradoxes to write about. Hopefully I can live up to the high standard I set for myself. My last few posts haven’t generated as much likes and followers as my earlier ones so my writing quality might be decreasing or it could just be random factors coming into play that people aren’t seeing the blog. I’m thinking it’s the latter because there’s no way I’m not awesome. By the way, I have an irrational desire to be completely original. I hate feeling that there’s a chance I copied someone or even simply inspired by them. Even when I retell the same story, I have the need to change the words up, usually for the worse because I already perfected the story the first time. That said, this first paragraph irked me because I’m playing Final Fantasy XIII-2 right now and there’s a retardedly named character, Hope, and a poorly named phenomenon they call paradoxes. Just the fact that I used both these words irks me… Yeah I know, I’m a fuckin’ mess.

Speaking of games, the first paradox is my love-hate relationship with video games. I grew up enjoying video games but as I became smarter and wiser and funnier and awesomer, games became less appealing. I want to like them but the games give me a hard time loving them like what happened with Atelier Ayesha that I wrote about here: https://tedgaming.wordpress.com/2013/05/06/games-spoilted-part-iii/ Recently, I’ve grown to hate games a lot more than I love them, causing me to have loads of shit to complain about in every game I play. The paradox is that I can somehow still manage to play upwards of 15 hours a day, 100 hours a week. The simple explanation is that I have absolutely no life with absolutely nothing better to do so I do something I don’t even like. I only resumed playing games around 2 weeks ago so I wonder how long it’ll take before I burn out from doing so much of something I hate and become depressed and suicidal again.

Speaking of voluntarily doing a lot of what I hate, the next paradox is that I’m a narcissist that hates myself. It kinda makes sense because why else would a narcissist be suicidal? Why would a person want to kill someone he loves? It appears I’ve adopted a writing style where I constantly comment on what I’m writing whilst showing clear signs of narcissism and self-hate. So I will describe my relationship with myself also of the love-hate nature. …And I hate myself for repetitively writing “love-hate”. Once again, there’s more hate than love. I don’t know if there’s any love actually. I might just hate myself a lot less than everyone else, but it’s all just a heap of shitty hatefulness and I happen to be the one standing at the top. Would being on top mean I hate myself more? Fuck it. This was just a shitty metaphor about a heap of shit so it doesn’t need to make sense. This self-hate might explain why I’m doing 100 hours a week of something I hate, why I continue to live instead of carrying out a suicide, and why I’m still fuckin’ living with my parents. …Maybe I’m just too nice of a guy that I don’t want to kill anyone, not even myself.

Speaking of being nice, the last paradox is that I’m a nice person but I’m not friendly at all. I hate smiling at people, I hate small talk, and I hate greeting people. I simply hate people… But I’m nice. It might be hard for you to see how I’m nice when I say things like “it’s okay to make fun of gay and retarded people” in entries like here: https://tedgaming.wordpress.com/2013/05/04/rant-and-wonder/

or here: https://tedgaming.wordpress.com/2013/05/05/why-do-gay-men-have-to-be-so-gay/

or here: https://tedgaming.wordpress.com/2013/04/25/fat-people-comment-topic/

The last one is about fat people but fat, retarded, or gay people are all in the nether regions of society so I might as well lump them all together. Lol I have no idea how I can prove I’m nice after saying shit like this. Well, I’m smart enough not to say this stuff in real life so that doesn’t interfere with my niceness. The main reason I consider myself nice is that I do any and all favors that people ask of me. Often times I’ll bend over backwards to help people I hardly fuckin’ even know. I don’t get a sense of pride or joy out of helping people either so that’s why I consider myself fuckin’ nice. Now, why would you ask a favor of me when I won’t even say “hi” to you? Good question. My unfriendliness might be an effective deterrent because I don’t want to be helping people anyway, but I do everything I’m asked. A better question would be why I bother being nice to people if I hate them so much. Maybe it’s my self-hate in the works again by making me do things that I hate, for people that I hate… Watch out guys, you might be witnessing the origin of a super villain here, the lamest origin story of all time: “He was lonely and friendless and blogged until he realized he actually hated people.”

My Life’s Paradoxes Part I

When I wrote about my dumbassery (part one), I mentioned that there was another topic I wanted to write about and this is it, coming to you several days later. I had a few ideas but I had not written them because I couldn’t find the best words to write them in. I still haven’t found the words yet but I’m going to write it out anyway since I’m trying to kill some time. I have too much time this morning because I woke up at 5am to the sound of fuckin birds. Fuckin birds… (It’s times like these that the distinction between fuckin and fucking actually matters.) I’ve already masturbated so I shall proceed with my mental masturbation, blogging. I am a truly masturbatory being.

Lately, I’ve been blogging a lot more than usual and it might seem like I’m opening up more. But in actuality, I’m getting more secluded because of the blog. When my friends ask me how I’ve been, I just want to refer them to the blog because I already wrote about it but my friends don’t like reading so it pretty much just ends all conversations. And what do I get in return? I’m writing for an audience of 17 people, probably only 5 of which will actually read my new posts, and these people aren’t even part of my life. Sorry reader, I have a tendency to antagonize you.

Being depressed and suicidal makes me not want nor need anything. I don’t need to hang out with friends cause they can’t cheer me up. I don’t need luxury items because they’re just wasted on me. I don’t even need to eat most of the time because I don’t need to live. Do I need to live? I didn’t think so. It took me awhile to realize that I actually do need to live, but only because of the definition of the word “need”. A necessity or need is something that is required to live. So by definition, I do need to live; I just don’t want to. It would be like saying blue jeans aren’t blue. Yeah, I know, semantics can be a mind fucker.

Ever since I wrote the entry on my sexuality, I’ve thought about it some more. I find that I’m attracted to lesbians more than straight girls. But of course, I’m attracted to the girly lesbians and not the butch ones. I’m like a butch lesbian… so butch that I even have a penis. There ought to be a term for a heterosexual who’s attracted specifically to homosexuals of the opposite gender. Oh I know, it’s called retardation.

…”Retardation” is the punchline but I’m not too fond of it. I couldn’t think of a better term that’s concise and funny. Other terms I’ve thought up include: self-defeating sexual retardation, fucktard, retardedsexuality, and he-s-retard-ed-sexuality. If you can think of a better one, write a comment for it. I don’t have any prizes to give but I can approve of your wit and humor. It’s sad how my two cents is literally worth less than two pennies.