hey

they all seem so fake. Happy words, a brief account of something funny that happened to them earlier, a saying, a word…

I just want to share how I can only see the flaws in other people, and in myself, and this is a perfect example. But I feel like I’m just a downer on everyone else’s sunny, happy, sustained world. Fuck me.

I just talk about flaws, negative things, sensitive topics, dull depressing shit. That’s why I don’t like me. But when I try to talk about happy stuff, first nothing comes to mind, and if it does, it feels fake. unreal. shallow. unjustified. What am I searching for? Does it even matter? 

I thought I would grow out of this sadness. It’s not a direct feeling, it’s just a culmination of truth: what’s the fucking point? My suicidal brother asked me this earlier and I brushed it off and said “I don’t think about it much.” What a lie! I think about it all the time. It’s consumed me. You can tell, can’t you? I just want to wallow in sadness. be alone forever. leave the smiling, thoughtless world behind. What is their secret? Lower standards? Different modes of satisfaction? How I wish I knew, so that I could make my life a little more tolerable. 

man. I really hate writing shit like this, but I have to get it off my chest. time to strap on the ol mask, and walk around like I give a shit. (I don’t give a shit.)