30 March 2011
30 mar 2011 - Crumbling
I can't get this bipolar shit under control. I can't shake the depression. I'm so far behind in my work I'll never catch up, no matter how hard I try. But there are people out there "pulling for me" and think I can make something of myself.
I ain't gonna be nothin' but a po' ass goth redneck on disability (assuming I get it) rockin' in the corner, cryin' 'cause every dream I've dared to dream I've managed to fuck up. I'm gonna be single forever, because honestly, who the fuck would want my ass. The only way I have out of living with Dad is either he dies (which better not happen) or my writing career takes off... even though I'm a mediocre writer.
My friends keep disappearing, and the ones that have offered themselves up just haven't earned my trust yet. I'm what you call "slow to warm." I feel I have good reasons not to trust people. It doesn't matter, every friendship I've ever had has simmered down to lukewarm, is breaking away, or has already ceased contact. New friendships shall end with the same fate of bleakness. Relationships shall always fail. I shall always be a fuckup.