I’m feeling utterly helpless in the past few weeks. I feel empty. I find myself daydreaming on my ride home from campus.
I don’t know what causes it. I do know what triggers it, though. It is when somebody ignores me and do not give me what I expect them to. That really disappoints me and I really want to let my rage out to them. Why can’t you care more about me? I’ve been friendly towards you. I’ve done things for you. Why the fuck do you turn a blind eye to me? Do you hate me? Am I being too kind that I annoy you? I know you will talk about me behind my back, laughing about my kindness. Kindness means stupidity to you, right? You can easily use me because I am too kind. Just ask me to do something for you and I’ll do it for you. That’s right. I will. If not I would just be on my fit of rage and you will hate me forever because of it. By then you’d have your reason to avoid me for the rest of your life and that would make you happy. That’s right, isn’t it? Your life would be happier without me in your way. I’m just a big talker who acts kind to you, pretending to do shit for you with my whole heart, but behind it I just wanted to get on your good side. Guess what, you’re absolutely right. You get 100 points! Congratulations. I just want you to like me. That’s why I did all of that to you. I don’t want you to see me as a useless, socially crippled human being. But I did that to you because I can’t do shit to get myself noticed by you. By you and everyone else. I just want everyone to notice how kind I am, how nice I am, how I can do shit that nobody wouldn’t do just because I want all of you to fucking pat me on my head. To congratulate me. Tell me that I’m such a helpful individual. Oh yeah that would make me happy for sure. For sure. I can live my life happily ever after only if you notice what I’ve done. Otherwise I’d just go to my fit of rage so you guys can notice me.
What if I tell you that I’ve been living my whole life pretending to be someone that you’d like? Whoever this son of a bitch you know, this smile that he puts on his face, this polite gestures that he makes, they are all fake. This guy makes them all just to get you to like him which if you do he’d be very happy. Those writings he posted, those things he reblogs, just to get everybody to notice him. Yes, I do all of them just so you’d say, “Oh this guy has great taste in music!” “Oh, look this guy is so cool. Just look at these quote he reblogs!” And you know what I’m very, utterly happy if you say that because you noticed me at last. That’s all I care for all I know.
You may be thinking I’d got to be sick in the head. Guess what, you’re right again! 200 points! Congratulations for your judgment. I may be mad, or at least I may be someone on the verge of being mad. Oh, maybe I’ll be schizophrenic. Maybe in a year or two you’d find me on the streets, naked, with barely any piece of clothing on my filthy, mud covered body. You’d see my bare genitals hanging freely on my exposed crotch. Oh maybe that’d be better because I can then do my own fucking thing and you can laugh at me and neither of us have bad feelings. Maybe I’d fling that fucking penis at you when you saw me, I won’t even be ashamed of that because I wouldn’t even fucking care. I’m fucking mad. Crazy ass, schizophrenic hobo. Because that’s how everyone is supposed to treat mad people, people who are sick in the fucking head: by laughing your asses off at them. Yeah, you know what, maybe I deserve that. Go ahead laugh at me. Go ahead laugh at me behind my back.
I really don’t want to care anymore.