honestly, i can’t be bothered to live life well anymore. there isn’t any passion in me for anything now. there isn’t.
stepping down isn’t easy, but being forced to step down is the worst thing in the world. freaking hate it when i’m passionate about something that feels right, that’s good for the soul, and yet doesn’t seem to be the right thing, according to my parents.
He stood there.
No, really, he just stood there. Watched as his brother and best friend was burnt to ashes; seeing but not feeling the orange, crackling flames consume the man who’d truly known him for the entirety of his existence. It was nothing to him now. He’d have nothing in the world to tie him back from where he wanted to go now.
Earth was now a war-zone. All the “stans” in the Middle East were now devastating the rest of the earth with their nuclear deterrences. Their nukes went off daily, and each new morning was a blessing. That’s what made Tom’s death so ironic; who gets killed during a mugging in wartime? But then again, Tom had always been the gallant hero. He’d been the one to stand up for what was right, and this time, he’d paid the ultimate price for it.
A nuke shuddered in the distance. Even down here, 350 feet underground in a secret military bunker he never knew existed until 30 minutes ago, Jake felt the tremors.
That must’ve been quite a few megatons, he thought. I wonder which poor unlucky soul’s gonna end up in the morgue as a charred, blackened corpse.
Wheeling around, he headed wordlessly up back to the surface. 350 feet above him stood the surface of the earth, and 100 million miles above that, the Red Planet.
He hoped he’d be able to survive whatever was lurking up there.
Goodbye brother. I’ll see you again sometime soon.
am i that useless and terrifying, that no one wants to talk to me? even having a phone, with contacts, doesn’t mean i get a single damn text for days on end unless i start the freaking conversation. and even then it ends after like 5 minutes or something like that. group whatsapp messages i reply to are unreplied again. my class freaking left me out of sitting at a prom table. twitter people don’t follow back. facebook people refuse friend requests. in a group chat with someone who has the same name, i’m freaking FORGOTTEN. like wth seriously i cannot take it. i fucking hate being ignored, okay? it isn’t nice to IGNORE when someone actually texts you. like seriously, where the fuck are your manners when you don’t actually reply a direct, personal message asking about you? is your phone off? wait no, you’re online on whatsapp. are you ignoring me? DUH. you “read the message” but didn’t reply. okcan. and all that bullshit about “i opened the message but i didn’t reply because i was busy” ok fuck you for that. as if you do that to everyone when you get like a million messages when you’re so damn fucking popular huh? when you actually reply, it’s like “k”, “whatever”, “haha” and some other shit. effort to compose a message is never needed now. everyone’s busy pleasing everyone else while i’m just going to be all by my fucking lonesome self. can? i die and leave everyone alone. i let everyone be the person they want to be, without someone who wants to know how they’re doing, how’s things like on their side of the world, etc etc etc. forget it. no one bothers about sincerity. everyone wants to be popular, accepted, connected, happy. as if every single person would just sit and talk to the people that they feel comfortable with when there’s always a text to be replied to, books to study etc. screw you and your “i was busy”. busy to reply my text but not others right? okay then, i damn well won’t bother you anymore. my phone will be off 24/7 then. no one needs to contact someone who doesn’t get contacted. forget this. fuck all of you. i won’t bother with any of you anymore. i’ll just kill myself and save you all the trouble of having this retard here, asking all of you how you are, confessing to every single fucking girl he sees, flirting with everyone, breaking people’s hearts and being an asshole just because he can, because isn’t that the worst kind of guy to know?
please, stop texting me. i know i’ve been longing for someone to text me like you do, but please, not me. i’m not the one for you. i don’t have what it takes to be the boy you want. i can’t. i’m not the one for you.
it’s been so long since i felt so deeply about someone, but at the same time, i’m not supposed to like you. that’s why i’m not the one for you.
i can’t be the boy you want to text all day, the person you want to see first in the morning and last at night. i can’t be there for you every single minute. i can’t let myself love you. i’m not the one for you.
don’t let yourself be my friend. my dangerous charms are that: dangerous. i appear to be kind but in reality i’m not nice. i’m a player and a fool and a coward. i’m not the one for you.
we’re polar opposites. i don’t like the things you like, and you don’t like the things i like. i don’t even know why i started talking to you. and now that i know why i mustn’t talk to you, you want to talk to me. don’t let yourself fall into this trap of liking me again, please? i’m not the one for you.
don’t think that i’ll reply you ever again, because i won’t. i won’t lead you on anymore. please leave me alone, let me get on with my life and not think of you every night, okay? those tears on my pillowcase have been washed off already, and even though i continue crying at night, when no one knows i’m crying, i can’t live with it anymore. i’m not the one for you.
think that you’re wronged? you are. but i can’t tell you that. we would never last. already this is happening for the second time; you still want to be with me? that isn’t a smart decision. i don’t want to be the one to hurt you so many times. okay?
please understand when i say:
i’m not the one for you.
so, i started ponning school this year. in fact, as i type this, i’m sitting in a library attempting to finish math portfolio. haha wow i’m nuts for skipping school huh. it’s due today. i’m nowhere close i think (like one third left or something like that) which is miserable..
feeling like nothing is getting done
seeing myself fall into the miry clay
poison eating up my insides
spilling from my fingers
onto the laptop
finding the true calling
of this bubbling, poisonous
thing called knowledge
i really think that i shoulda have done something more to create a less retarded impression of myself in people’s minds. but then i realise: if i’m not myself, then what? and yet i go: if this is retarded then don’t do stuff like that..
this is a mix that i listen to when i’m bored, simply because i like piano covers :)