Never in my Wildest Dreams

I feel as if I ave bamboozled myself out of my fuckin' dreams. I don't like being who I am so I have a lot of self-loathing that I deal with on a hourly basis by just basically being a dickhead or a plain-ol'-asshole.

I tirade, gripe and hate; jealous runs in my veins like ice cream in a diabetic.



(And don't give me any shit about that fucking comment: I'm overweight! I can say an goddamned self-deprecating thing I'd fuckin' like!)




This here was NOT my college experience! So some days I am making up for 'lost time' ... time that can't be regained anyways.


THIS was me. Isolated, withdrawn, quiet ... brooding, plotting, angry, hateful, resentful.

I hated that guy then & I hate the guy he became now.



I was writing at 16, and keep my hand-written journal today. I scribble notes, ideas, websites, loves lost and wished for, dreams ... then type on my blogs, Twitter, Facebook (as the vanilla asshole I hate!) and work a little more each time on my many stories.

Nothing makes me happy some days.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be here ... again.

Suicidal is not the word. Pessimistic is the right one.

I just need to keep striving forward.

I just need to stay hopeful.

Trying, crying, hoping.

As much as I wish otherwise that's all I can do.

Ciao.



~ j ~