Please Don’t Raise Cheap Children

I was raised to be cheap and that has officially fucked with my entire life. Growing up, my parents always complained about the price of everything and I was taught to value cheap things because I don’t need expensive things. Because of the way that I was raised, my life is now completely fucked. I can’t hold jobs for more than a few months because I don’t need the jobs because I don’t need the money because I practically don’t use any money. The very fact that I’m alive is proof that I don’t need those jobs because I’ve quit them all and I’m still alive.

Now, I’m still living with my parents so that’s why I don’t need to pay bills and shit. Sooner or later, I’m going to need money, right? I think not. Partially because it pains me to spend money, there’s literally nothing I look forward to in life anymore. With nothing to look forward to, I don’t really need to extend this life. I’ve adapted to not needing to spend money to survive which led to not having any fun and now I’ve adapted to accept death. If you don’t want to raise a fuckin’ mess of a child like me, don’t raise your children to be cheap. Get them hooked on drugs so they feel the need to earn money to buy more drugs. At least they have a will to live.

I went to another branch of the library today to pick up a few dvds and met an ex co-worker. There was bullshit small talk and I jokingly asked if there were any rumors about me ever when I suddenly quit. She told me that some people thought I might have committed suicide. That actually made me happy. As social beings, humans like to share things. Since my life is pure misery, that just happens to be the only thing I can share.

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.