2003-09-19 21:46:56 ET|
What a fucking life...
Yesterday... I woke up late, so I had to take a taxi for school, when arrived I noticed that part of my bag pack was open, I didnít find my calculator, which means I probably left it on the taxi. Then had an exam, which I donít feel like I did well on it, crap. Back home had to but a new calculator. At night had the rehearsal, I think I sucked too, I was playing horrible.
Today... I woke up early, had another test, I sucked as well. What fucking else? Well, so today it was the thing about the painting contest, there, I got very disappointed, not for me, I didnít won anything, I recognized a lot of damn good works, Iím nothing but a damn amateur fanatic painter, Iím truly a crap, I now that, but what bothered me was that there were many ďworksĒ terribly awful, pure shit, disgusting pieces of crap; I donít understand it, Iím really, really sick of this new modern art, pop art, abstract art, or fucking whatever the shit of name you want to call it. Iíll never accept that shit as art. Since when did one of the seven fine arts become something this horrible? I canít stand it, what the fuck is a lot of paint mixed the crap out without forms just shot there in a canvass? I fucking hate it. I donít know who was the fucking asshole who started all the new modern-thing art, I know I donít draw and paint that well, but whatís all the freaking deformed crap? All those shitting snobbish rich people, of course, these artists paint all the bullshit so they can think ďoh, this is too weird, I canít understand it so it means itís goodĒ. Fuck, I should have been born either on a past century or in another planet. Nothing seem to be going good for me lately: the fucked ups of yesterday, the shitty paintings from a while ago, I had even planned -after the painting contest- to see an orchestra playing the famous Adagio and Violin Concerto of Samuel Barber because the painting shit was supposed to be at 7 pm and the concert at 8:30, but of course, I live within bastard humans, and they painting stuff started at 7:40, ending about at 8:45 pm, so I couldnít go to the concert.
Why, fucking why? This crap writing hasnít demonstrated but my pathetic evidence of how Iím completely useless at what I want to do. Iím not of those fucking teenagers complaining that they donít like school, if Iím going to school right now is because I do fucking want to learn and study something I like, yet I seem to be a shitty failure, so I try to complement it with drawing and music, and Iím also uncared for people; every single shit I want I canít do it well ironically because I want them too much. This all crap-about is only resumed as how I go from disillusioned and depressed to angsty and upset about most people out there, yet returning to a new pathetic, sad and depressed feeling. I sound so bitter I think Iím close to death, like a very old man about to die. Yes, lately all this suffering has made want to be dead, not like always that Iím uninterested for life or death, but lately do wanting to end it all, to die, to vanish, to never exist, yet I cannot die right now, I promised to a friend I was going to help her sister on a school project, and Iíd feel bad if I donít do it, so I cannot die, at least after November... heh, whatever, maybe I just need to relax, but what for? I know Iíll be this bitter sooner or later again; Iím still going to be a pathetic human waste Iíd like to at least be unaware of it, Iím tired, really fucking tired of always knowing Iím going down by my own fault.