WHAT IS A GAME BOY?

It’s been too long since I’ve been on here and I’m wondering what the point is. Nobody listens on here and nobody cares. 

It might have something to do with why I’m doing this right now, I can’t think of anywhere to vent without sounding like a whiny shit. 

I’m still barely happy. I’m functional, I can get through the day fine, but I just can’t seem to reclaim that spark I felt. There’s nothing that really brings me any joy. 

I’m bored of the distractions that I’ve wasted my years on. I can’t justify anything to myself to feel better. I’ve quit heavily drinking, and now my nightcaps are gone I literally have nothing to look forward to in my day. It’s just bullshit putting up with people who are so fucking over-entitled and delusional. 

I have a support network but I don’t need their support. I just want them to make me feel like I’m not becoming old and hopeless every day. Every cigarette break is a step towards nothing. Even the prospect of achieving my goals just doesn’t drive me to try. I just want to fall into black

I don’t know, I’m sounding terribly cliche and lame and if anyone actually saw this they’d think I am just another shitstain who only sees himself and nobody else, like the rest of the world is just an illusion designed to entertain me and that if I’m not being entertained then it’s the worlds’ fault or something.

Truth is I hate how fucking messed up I am still. I can’t believe one person who I don’t even see anymore is so fundamental to my mood on any given day. It still hurts to even think about it. I just miss it. I miss the elation. I want the fucking elation again, I’m sick of the nothing, the lack of excitement, the lack of adventure, the lack of the base-level hormonal sex, the alcohol, and the feeling that i was actually worth a damn.

Now I just fill my days with passive-aggressive bullshit, wondering if I’ll ever feel anything even close to happiness again. 

I’m a white 20 something with everything and nothing and I hate it and I have no idea where to go to find the love I so desperately crave.

Even in the end, They’ll all go away. 

Once upon a time I was a miserable kid.

I put all of my efforts into not being miserable, and in turn I found myself more depressed than ever.

And then one day I just got ‘okay’ with the way I was living my life. I read too much Scott Pilgrim and then suddenly the concept of being a loser asshole slacker was romanticized in my brain. Almost immediately I felt confident in my lack of direction.

And for a while It was good. People wanted to have sex with me. In my mind, that’s all I needed.

But then that validation faded away. I saw the truth of reality. I needed a job and a reason to get out of bed. The people who loved me for my shallow ways stopped loving me because in the end, if you take away a mans’ purpose, they are a novelty, and that’s what I became. A trifle. Nothing more than a fun time for a while. Nothing that could truly be loved.

So the self-loathing began.

I tried to kill myself in as many ways as possible. The scariest part of this is that I will never convince myself that this was a silly course of action. I’m officially past my peak. I’m done forever. Death would only be release from the mediocrity that saturates my next few decades, everything else would be pathetic delusion. 

And the thing is, sometimes I wish I didn’t get what I wanted. 

Sometimes I wish I had just remained sad.

At least I would be ignorant enough to think that life wouldn’t get any better.

But I’ve had a taste of elation and knowing I can never go back is a hook in the back of my being that will torment me until the maggots have finally finished feasting on my decaying flesh.

I will never be truly happy again.

As a 22 year old this is the saddest truth I will ever know. 

Hey remember when I used to go on Tumblr all the time? Well now I only do when I’m a self-loathing piece of shit and I need to vent (see:now). I fucking hate everything I am and I deserve nothing from anyone and that fills my guts with such despair that I want to die.

Wahh wahh pity me etc.

There’s nothing that can be done, I’m happy with nothing except that one time I was happy but that’s over and now I have to grow up and accept that I don’t get to feel that way ever again because I’m ugly as fuck and have nothing going for me. WOOHOO srsly though somebody drive a knife through my face I feel like the worst fucking thing to have ever drawn breath.

Hm. Haven’t tumblrd in a while. Only really do it when I’m depressed, you know how it is.

I feel so insanely inadequate tonight. I wish I went to a private school and played in a popular band and made 100k and had a good physique and lots of friends who all wanted me to be around. I want to be everything to everyone and I rarely achieve one thing for one person.

I’m not sure where this vehement unhappiness is coming from. At least when I was so clouded by misery I knew what the source was and I was occupied with trying to explode myself to really worry about banality.

I wish I was more desired more often. I wish I was cooler. I wish people wanted me around and weren’t burdened by my moodiness. I wish I could be a better person.

Maybe I still can, but sometimes people will value you almost exclusively on your circumstances. Most people will reply to this statement with

‘But Brod, you don’t want to be friends with someone like that! They are snobs!’

Except 99% percent of the time, they’ve earned the right to be snobs. Whether they’ve made a lot of money or been born into money or the rare occasion where they are just so handsome/beautiful that they are just accepted by the majority of people around them, these people are better than the crooked-toothed moody fuckups of the world.

It’s such an unhealthy, twisted way at looking at things, but I’ve seen no evidence that ‘Being a good person’ will make you as inherently happy as ‘Being the right person in the situation’. And ‘Being the right person in the situation’ for some is being a shit-shoveller in a shit-shovelling factory. It’s sad. I’m always going to be this ugly. There’s nothing I can do about it but lower my expectations for life and how well it’s all going to turn out for me. Fuck, I wish I was more attractive. 

I’m not sure what to do with my Tumblr now. I don’t feel depressed or crazy or needing to rant or whinge or cry about how shitty my life is. I don’t have anything else in life that counters that, but I’m just tired. I think I’ll go back to having this be a cool photos blog. I am going to move all my sad posts into my private blog I THINK. Or I could just start PMW again and hide this one. Who knows.