Thursday, May 13, 2004

evil bitch-monster from hell

so. why do i yell at perfectly nice people when im inebriated. cant i yell at people i hate. no. i pick on the cool people. perhaps getting black-out drunk on a fairly regular basis isn't the best of ideas.

quothe the immortal colin farrel:

"I ended up on a shrink's couch and he told me to write down how much I did in a week. Twenty E's, four grams of coke, six of speed, half an ounce of hash, three bottles of Jack Daniels, 12 bottles of red wine, 60 pints and 280 fags. He looked at me and said: 'No wonder you're depressed.' I was going one way - down. I was self-destructive, still am."

one of my favorite games is to do stupid shit just to see if i can rectify whatever situation ive be-fucked myself into. like when youre a kid and your parents tell you not to touch something because its hot. and then you touch it anyway, (obviously), and spend the next three hours bewailing your swollen, pissed off finger and rubbing it with aloe. i do that alot. in the sense that i insist upon engaging in questionable activities that will probably burn my metaphorical finger.

most of my family ends up kicking it due to cancer, and/or drinking way too fucking much. so i, of course, have to smoke and drink lots just to show up those pussies. why cant i just find a good hobby. i hear knitting has a lot to offer.

the crux of the monkey is a little deeper though. if i was to ever try my bestest at something, and not have any excuse for my sucking at it, (hangover, black lung...), i think i would cry a lot. its like, 'hey dudes. look how fast i am and how decent my grades are even though i drink like a wino. you should all be in total awe of my abilities'. when really, im just too frightened of the prospect that i wont be any faster, or smarter, or better, so i need this bull-shit excuse to fall back on. i am staggeringly afraid of failure. so much so, that i overwhelmingly prefer to fuck myself over rather than find out that im not good enough. and that gosh darnit people dont like me.

being a fuck-up is somehow easier than the constant pressure of trying to be perfect, and berating yourself when perfection doesn't happen. surprise.


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