Oh Look, Another Rant

I am not happy, not in the least. Nothing is going right. I'm never going to amount to anything. All of my friends are normal. I'm a social retard. I can't take it. I'd have killed myself already, but I'm too much of a pussy to actually do it. I find one thing to look forward to and stick to it. That is why I'm alive. It can be a concert, a package, an album, an instrument. I need just one thing. At the moment, it's Conventional Weapons. I'm living for that. I have to find out what I want to do with my life soon. I don't know. I'm fifteen. Why am I even expected to choose? I don't want to. I have no clue what's going to happen in the future. Who I am now may not be who I am in ten years. Twenty. Thirty. I want to have sex. I really do. I don't want a boyfriend. I don't need a boyfriend. I don't want a nice guy. Just any guy. Or girl. I'm such a fuckin' whore. I don't even care anymore. My friends all hate me. People are scared of me. I never get invited anywhere. My life is a wreck. I'm fat. I'm ugly. I don't know what to do. I'm thinking of a career in alcoholism or drug addiction. FUCK. I don't like this. I am not happy. I can't find a goddamn thing to do about it. I get good grades. I'm smart as fuck. I'm actually really awesome. Forget everything I said prior to this moment. I'm beautiful. I'm awesome. Everyone loves me, as they should. Everything is alright. No it's not. Yes it is. No it's not. FUCK, this always happens. Just ignore me. You'd be better off not paying any attention at all...

please...

go away...