And have never in my life considered starting a blog because that's just ridiculous... But I really need somewhere to vent and it seems the internet is the most simultaneously apathetic and responsive audience.
I keep thinking, this is supposed to be the best time of my life, right? I'm not going to talk about the family troubles, the financial issues, or friend drama. I'm just tired. Listening to music, staring at heaps of dirty laundry, and thinking that I really should be sleeping, because it's the first day of school coming up bright and early around the corner. My friend and I are carpooling, but I don't think I want to. I like to jam out and scream like an idiot in my car, and I don't want to share that. I love my car more than I love most people, and the day that pile of metal decides not to run is the day I don't stop crying.
I wish I were a better writer, that would make this infinitely more interesting... But venting is necessary and I need a more creative way to dispel stress and anger and all those other horrible emotions that should not be present when all I've been wanting for the entirety of the summer is to move back to my home and see all my friends. Everything is different, and the four years I get to spend having the best years of my life are sadly short and painful and all too fleeting. Basically, tired, depressed, and feeling sorry for myself.I have nothing original or interesting to write. But I feel like a new chapter in my life is finally here. It didn't happen when I started college, but rather, the day I realized that we live lives of dissatisfaction and just settling for the next best thing, trying to make do with what we have and scrounge an existence before we die. Morbid and true. Unfortunate, really. Auspiciousness doesn't seem to be a trait in my DNA.
I'm the least lucky person I know. I'm not living on the street or anything, but it feels like it might be preferable. A cardboard box can be quite cozy, and keeping a sleeping bag in my car sounds like a good idea.
Your point about preferring to live as a homeless is valid and incredibly interesting. Not only is a homeless person's life significantly more simple than yours (do hobos have to worry about financial aid or whether their blacker-than-thou bitch of a room mate is going to birthday fuck her scummy boyfriend in his cardboard box? hell no; so long as they can keep hopping the next boxcar they're golden), but there just isn't enough time for a homeless person to worry about anything other than survival. No time to just think. 'Just thinking' is something that proves to be the death knell for people like us. In many ways the life of homeless man or woman is enviable.
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