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Lazy sundays reveries.
11 years ago
Ah....early Sunday. Most people hates 'em, sundays. Just because it precedes the dreaded monday, I suppose. I kinda like them, like this. The weather is chilly enough for me to wear a bean cap in my shaved head.
What am I talking about? Oh, nothing. Just putting on random thoughts on this journal. And since no one reads it, but me, it's safe to be somewhat crazy. along the lines I write.
Crazy man...yes. I guess I am a bit crazy. But if you stop and anlyze each one's lives, you'll get that notion, that everyone is crazy to a degree. Yeah, maybe mine's a bit higher. You know, the "Crazy Factor".
I am anything but a normal, regular, everyday person.
Sometimes it bothers me, I admit. Sometimes I do envy them so-called "normal" folks. But when I look upon their lives, what they do, the things they do...I prefer my craziness.
I am a 38-year old fucker. By now, I should have my life sorted out. Have a career. A wife. Kids. A car. A house. A huge amount of cash stored in the bank.
I got nothing of the sort.
I got dust. I got about $100 in my bank account, and a 2k debt to be paid yet. I got no car. I got no wife(thankfully), I got no kids(thankfully also), I got no career. I got a fuckup of a dead-end job, that I'm only tolerated around because I used to be the owner's best friend, at a point of my life. That earns me less that 1k.
And I look around me...I live in the attic. Some "internet-wise" people would call me a deviant of the Butthurt Basement Dweller. Only I live up above, but the principle's the same. Yes, I got my mother living with me. I'm kinda responsible for her and my younger sister. "The man in the house", like they say.
Yeah. Some man.
I'm 38 and I don't know how to live yet. People scare me. Or rather, I loathe people. I can't stand crowds. I can't be on a club, for more than a hour. Seriously, it starts to get on my nerves to a point that I have a sort of panic attack, and just need to leave the place. And besides that, there's the fact that I'm no kid anymore. Standing up for more than an hour is painful for me. What can I tell you? I'm nearly 40, dammit. Clubs ain't definitely my scene.
And...I don't know if it happens to everyone, but I was born with this...this...certainty....in my head: that I'm bound to be alone.
I just feel it. I just know it. Can't explain; it's just there - you shall die alone, in front of computer porn.
Well...at least there's one thing I can say with the same certainty, and even some pride along too: I've never hurt anyone.
I haven't touched anyone, either.
Ah, the rantings of a crazy man. I guess if there were some psychiatrist reading this, they would use it as an example of what happens to a man that has lead a life similar to mine - a modern hermit. That only leaves the house to go to work, and after nine hours, get straight back to his Tower of Solitude, the fucking dusty attic.
At least I'm not alone up here. I got Gideon. I'll talk more about him in a specific entry.
What am I talking about? Oh, nothing. Just putting on random thoughts on this journal. And since no one reads it, but me, it's safe to be somewhat crazy. along the lines I write.
Crazy man...yes. I guess I am a bit crazy. But if you stop and anlyze each one's lives, you'll get that notion, that everyone is crazy to a degree. Yeah, maybe mine's a bit higher. You know, the "Crazy Factor".
I am anything but a normal, regular, everyday person.
Sometimes it bothers me, I admit. Sometimes I do envy them so-called "normal" folks. But when I look upon their lives, what they do, the things they do...I prefer my craziness.
I am a 38-year old fucker. By now, I should have my life sorted out. Have a career. A wife. Kids. A car. A house. A huge amount of cash stored in the bank.
I got nothing of the sort.
I got dust. I got about $100 in my bank account, and a 2k debt to be paid yet. I got no car. I got no wife(thankfully), I got no kids(thankfully also), I got no career. I got a fuckup of a dead-end job, that I'm only tolerated around because I used to be the owner's best friend, at a point of my life. That earns me less that 1k.
And I look around me...I live in the attic. Some "internet-wise" people would call me a deviant of the Butthurt Basement Dweller. Only I live up above, but the principle's the same. Yes, I got my mother living with me. I'm kinda responsible for her and my younger sister. "The man in the house", like they say.
Yeah. Some man.
I'm 38 and I don't know how to live yet. People scare me. Or rather, I loathe people. I can't stand crowds. I can't be on a club, for more than a hour. Seriously, it starts to get on my nerves to a point that I have a sort of panic attack, and just need to leave the place. And besides that, there's the fact that I'm no kid anymore. Standing up for more than an hour is painful for me. What can I tell you? I'm nearly 40, dammit. Clubs ain't definitely my scene.
And...I don't know if it happens to everyone, but I was born with this...this...certainty....in my head: that I'm bound to be alone.
I just feel it. I just know it. Can't explain; it's just there - you shall die alone, in front of computer porn.
Well...at least there's one thing I can say with the same certainty, and even some pride along too: I've never hurt anyone.
I haven't touched anyone, either.
Ah, the rantings of a crazy man. I guess if there were some psychiatrist reading this, they would use it as an example of what happens to a man that has lead a life similar to mine - a modern hermit. That only leaves the house to go to work, and after nine hours, get straight back to his Tower of Solitude, the fucking dusty attic.
At least I'm not alone up here. I got Gideon. I'll talk more about him in a specific entry.
