XxLucidDreamEscapxX

I swear to all that is fucking real, I am losing it. I don't even recognize the words anymore. The language. It's becoming harder and harder to form my thoughts into a sentence, and the sheer idea of losing that ability for good is just-... surreal, and terrifying, and debilitating all on its own. I hate this place. Not that I can fool myself into thinking anywhere else would be any better. Or that it can get better with age, or time. Nothing improves. Things only complicate further.

No one wants to help. No one cares.     I've come to realize these two, albeit; brutal, but honest facts of life. Not a single person cares about you more than they care about themselves, or anyone else for that matter. No one else but ourselves are our number one priorities. How selfish - how selfish of a species we must be. We don't care. We want our own happiness. We want our own problems tended to. How ironic that a race of people who cares about no one but their own selves has a dying wish that others care about them; that others want them to be happy. What a selfish, horrible, ironic thing. We're all so alone in this.

Don't you fucking tell me what's rude. Rude is calling a girl online fat for your own personal self-esteem boost. Rude is expecting a chick to cheat on her boyfriend just so you can tell her about whatever weird fucking wet dream you had about her. Rude is calling her and texting her nonstop when she doesn't reply. You're all the rude ones, not me.

You know it's been done wrong when you hear outside your bedroom, "I fucking hate you. Why can't you tuck me in?!" It's also like, 900 degrees Fahrenheit in my room right now. Come on Kansas, it SNOWED two weeks ago. Let's have a summer like that.

What do you do when the want you want to talk to, is the one you regret meeting the most?