This can pretty much go ignored. I just wanted to vent shit and stuff, and I feel like my friends are probably sick of my constant whining and shit.

I just don’t care.

I don’t care about school.

I don’t care about my future.

I don’t care if I die alone.

I don’t care if I go to hell.

Because caring? It’s a waste of time. A waste of energy.

But not caring isn’t right, isn’t normal, so I’ll slap a grin on my face, and pretend that I don’t feel fucking dead already.

And I’ll sacrifice my health for my grades, because that’s all you care about.

So I’ll keep working on shit I don’t care about, if only because it’s less exhausting than putting up with your self-righteous bitching.

Sure, I could bring my grades up if I never used the computer.

But what point would there even be in life if I did?

Then again, you’ve never really cared about that. Not really.

Work and work and work. Forget fun, you need to work to survive.

Why does everyone seem to think being alive is some great big grand thing?

Or maybe it’s different for them.

Maybe they can breathe when they try to care about school.

Maybe they don’t throw up when they think about the future, because it’s just too much.

Maybe they know they’ll always have someone around, because they haven’t lost enough to know otherwise.

Maybe they know they’re going somewhere better, going to live some grand afterlife when they die, because their own parents haven’t told them that they’re going to hell.

Maybe some people are that lucky.

Maybe all people are that lucky.

Maybe no people are that lucky.

Maybe I’m just the only one who lets it cripple them.

But

it’s

just

too

hard

to

care

any

more.