Inside Out

Oh god, Blogitus merged with Blogit - for a second I thought I’d never be able to log in here again, but then again of course not; we’re dealing with finns here, right?

So it’s been almost one year since the last post, and I confess I didn’t miss it here that much. Perhaps I’ve been expressing myself some other ways around here, but it’s never enough, no, not for me. So I’m back. For today. I learned that I can only promise the present. Committing is harder than what I thought, and somehow limitting. Limits are good? Yeah, but… but no. I am not going to start over with the humanities of being shattered in two (not to say billions), let’s just say that I missed the blue-ish environment of this webhole.

I don’t think I’ve got anything special to say, I don’t think I’ve got the patience to re-read, so let’s just stick to the exercise of writing, stating, communicating.

Yeeeha!

Lallalalala. You know these days when you’re really prone to getting pissed off. My day was exactly the opposite. WAS. Until. Argh. Fuck. Lord. It’s useful to have a blog so you can at least write whatever random shit and let it out. Go away. Fuck. Lord. Lallalaalala. LALALALA. Lalalaaaaaaa there’s nothing to be said. There’s always something to be said. Fucking lord. Cheer the fuck up. Yeah. Fuckenments. I don’t know if you noticed but I try to become someone else than that -self who’s suffering. So, let’s get transformed into someone else. Who? A thirty-something. Having sex. No, not that. A thirty-something… a thirty-something, drawing. A thirty-something that lives of it. An architect? A designer… a thirty-something “reading” a porn magazine. A thirty something with a decent and stable money source. A thirty something adjusting an alarm-clock. A thirty-something doing simple things, scratching his balls, painting her nails. Throwing away pills for moderating appetite. A thirty-something singing children songs with an annoying voice just for the hell of it.

You’re tired of reading “thirty-something”, aren’t you?

Argh.

Lalalaa.

Why do dentists always decide it’s a good time to start a conversation with their patients when they got their mouth wide open?

- So, are you still on vacation?

- Aaaahaa yaa aa aast aaa arrch!

I just don’t get it.

I’d like to say something to all this new wave of heart-breaking douchebags, comprised primarily of twenty- and thirty- something people, who think they can delude others and pose as altruists after chewing them up and spitting them out. I got motivated to write my rant after I heard of yet another case of excuse-spitting overseas, but the number of people who have heard this type of ordinary bullcrap is just countless. Apparently we deserve more, we’re just too good; right, I’m sure we are, but I find it at least weird that we dwell in the same cubicle as these oh-so-inadequate people. Are we supposed to thank them for removing their entire piece of human junk off our lives? Fuck you, that’d be much more appropriate. I wouldn’t be willing to empower these people by agreeing with their ridiculous and old-fashioned excuses. The obvious response to these douches would be to state they have no sense of consideration or morality, basically because it’s the truth. But I’ll call them slackers and that’ll be the punchline of my rant, which I choose to dip in snarkiness.
Plus, if I wrote something pointing out the positives of these guys, (and they do have a LOT of positives) it would be dismissed immediately as an attempt of saving a relationship of an immature and infatuated douchebag.
Oh, and I’m not planning to censor myself just because a lot of people in this world are ignorant assholes who miss the point. This is nothing but a bluster once you realize I’m ranting on my own behalf, or on behalf of others who have gone deaf and mute for this very same sort of crap.

So, to shorten things a bit: Why always the same old shit? Can someone invent a better excuse and spread its copyrights to the heart-breakers of the planet, PLEASE!? The world is just overly tired of the deservingness cheap talk. Some of us get offended by the excuse, others get hurt for believing it all, but I’m the kind who thinks: What an insight, hip! You’re so goddamn busy being original you failed to notice you’re about the least original thing left on the planet.
You’re stuck with old statements, and the only reason they have gotten old is because you emotionally coddled twats keep presenting them.
Why not just be the plain asshole and admit it if you can’t get rid of your vices or the whore-genes governing the will to have a different visitor between your legs every night? Why not ask for help, even, if you care? That would be at least sincere. You’d even be able to label them as chemistry or biology issues. Now, if your pride is so hard to overcome it’s ‘cos you don’t care as much. And due to your insincerity, you don’t even qualify as the cunts you strive to be.

Actually, I suppose it doesn’t matter what I say here, because the folks I’m talking about won’t give my side of the argument any regard. Ironic it is, since many of them present themselves as pillars of open-mindedness.

You know, these hipsters don’t listen to people they disagree with unless there is an opportunity to prove them wrong. Pressure might be a bit too much for them, and we’ll eventually become the annoying heart-broken whiny creatures in their lives. Ironic again, considering we’re just too good for them, we deserve more… right?

*sigh*

Aside from the people who deride us as boring/annoying asses, there are also the people who simply refer to us as lowest common denominator, immature and such. These dicks will always do that at the drop of a hat, all in an effort to convince themselves and others they are doing the fair play, but the truth is that they are at best, cowards unable to take responsibility, or at worst, insincere tools who just want to make others feel bad for claiming their respect.

My advice is: get some fucking decency knocked into that fucking head, or else you’ll forever be the douche people like me will feel pity for. What if I were a bad guy who enjoyed shoving excuses up people’s asses? Well, okay, your ass wouldn’t be as rusty as your brain might be right now. Think a bit, if that’s even possible…

I’m done. I can’t take it anymore. I’m pulling the plug.
My mom says human beings are intelligent enough to have a view of the future, and that I’m not using my intelligence since people like me will always end up alone. However, I’m smart enough not to fool myself and I know I shouldn’t fake a person that doesn’t exist for the sake of others, neither should I try being someone I am not just for the fear of ending up alone, for that would compromise my happiness and well-being throughout the process of life. So if I were to gather my mom’s advice and my very own knowledge, I think what would remain wouldn’t be anything different from suicide.

I am not willing to have the dearest people in my life celebrate my demise, and this is exactly what would happen if I were to open up my heart to them. I am not willing to live with my heart locked up either. I am trying to be truthful to myself - what has been working painfully - and to others, but the others, the dearest others, they can’t take my truth. I wouldn’t mind shouting Fuck You! each and every time that made itself necessary, but it becomes more painful every day. I don’t like hurting these others, and I confess that hurting myself is much worse. Yes, I am a solipsistic fuck, I have no problems admitting it. Actually, I think every piece of human junk is more self-centered than anything, and I’m fine with that, I won’t hide that truth from myself. But I am no longer willing to live in a lose-lose situation. I am tired of misguided morons who have no other will in life than trying to misguide me on a regular basis, and I’m tired of hating myself for loving them all.

I’ve been besieged with bad news, one after another, day after day. I’m tired of being immerse in helplessness, I’m tired of ‘dealing with it’. It’s harsh, you know. I can’t take any more bashing. Underdogs, dark horses, guinea pigs and lab rats - I am no longer wearing those masks.
I know I won’t rejoice if I move to the woods or if I start my own hooker farm somewhere far away from here. It’s not like I would have the dough anyway, so I just won’t spend my brain having these brilliant ideas.  Rather than cater to the masses, I prefer to just stop living. It’s not enjoyable anymore and I have enough curiosity to move on to something different, or enough will to practice my sleeping. Whatever happens after the line is crossed, it’ll be better than this. How do I know? Ok, I don’t, but it’ll be at least something new. The truth is that if I can’t be myself, I’d rather be no more.

That’s right, I’m crazy - I just publicly stated living life is not enjoyable anymore. Well, that’s that. It’s not any enjoyable to be the eat-sleep parasite at your so-called home, sweet home. It’s not a tad enjoyable not to be able to catch the smallest glimpse of certainty or happiness in the future. It’s not enjoyable being totally alone with a computer screen containing a bunch of depressing shit written on it.

Attention any overly kind asshole souls who are willing to dissuade me from my kingdom-come journey. Don’t even try. I won’t take that chance. It’s over. I’m putting myself to sleep.
But why in the fucking world would I commit to such a stupid self-destruction drive? Because I can. Because it’s my business. Because this is the way I do stuff… my way.

As a final farewell I’d like to remind you all imbecile readers that this life was not only a well of mourn. I’ve whored the smartest guys and the hottest girls I met, I’ve been to the best gigs, I’ve made the best trips, I’ve got all the albums by my favorite band, I’ve read all the romances by my favorite author, I’ve written the best texts, I’ve watched the best series on TV. I’ve had the best friends and gotten seriously drunk with all of them. I’ve been in love. I’ve had the best dog ever. I’ve had the best computer and instruments. I’ve won trophies and medals several times. I’m smart as hell. I’m cute as fuck. I’ve laughed my ass off at the douchebags on my way. I’ve fulfilled my innermost psychotic needs. So now is the time to head to the next page of this psychotic book.

You’re a coward if you kill yourself, but then again you’re a coward if you don’t. We just can’t run from it.

Oh, and I refuse to explain the irony behind this text because anyone with half a brain should be able to handle it on their own.

Fuck you all,
the biggest coward in the world at this very moment.

“Your scream’s a whisper.”

Today I feel very much like shit. Goodbyes, fevers, sneezes, loneliness, silence. Silence is by far the biggest reason for my shit feeling. But anyway life seems to go on. Fortunately or not. - see, that’s how depressed I feel! I’ll kick my own ass, nöy wöyrries.

The will to write has gotten lost somewhere. I’ll try to find it and then we’ll see what next post has to offer.

Something that makes me feel uneasy - an open door behind me. (Put this way ‘cos it’s not supposed to sound any metaphorical. The “literally”-world is being very annoying these days.)

So yeah, an open door behind me. Three books to be read. A lot of things to write. Ideas not to get lost.

Heh, I just found a fourth book and got reminded of a fifth one. Life is sweet. Tiny addictions (- why do they always have to be unhealthy?). The problem is that the days have been much too beautiful for certain kinds of things.

I’m glad I’m not supposed to make sense. But I very much do, I very much do…

oh me, oh my

again.

Suspicion or distrust. If they’re synonyms.

When you feel like “there’s something in there, gotta find what it is”. This is me today. But then again I get struck by experience: you’ll find whatever you’re looking for.

Gotta keep my mind clean, empty of suspicions, distrusts, clean, blank, vain vain vain.

*Deep breath*

And why the HELL do I publish this on a weblog?

edit: why does the wind always blow in the wrong direction? No, this isn’t any sort of metaphor or anything… I’m talking about real wind, cigarettes, smoke… argh.

edit2: after a while, I went to #local again..

insideout Empty, the way we like it!
insideout It’s incredible how there is a parallel between this chatroom and a bottle of booze…

needless to say there was nobody there, or alive, to answer my randomness…

Hey ho!

And this hasn’t been abandoned, as I keep getting bombs on my head. Explosions might be nice from a visual point of view.

Aaand this hasn’t been abandoned, as I keep exchanging the days for nights.

And of course this hasn’t been abandoned. I’m still the odd figure who wanders around, invisible, visible, incomprehensible and happy this way. I could be high, who are you to judge? But I’m not. I’m just a weirdo. Still a weirdo, and right now a still weirdo. Filling screen with weirdities, this is what I should have probably done during the day. But no, the name says insideout, for God’s sake.

I’m not willing to be read or understood by any means. I’m not, by any means, willing to make sense. I’m just waiting. Patiently. For another bomb to explode.