So, I've only read the first post and decided that this is a place to vent. I have mild paranoid schizophrenia. My personality disorders really prevent me from having a social life. I can't seem to convey my thoughts in a clear manor. I hate my job. Mind-numbing, soul-crushing are a few of the adverbs (is that the right word, I sucked at Language Arts 9) that come to mind. I don't think I'm going to be able to get into a decent college. And even if I do, I'll still go nowhere because I have to definate idea of exactly where it is I want to go. My brother has no job, starting to piss me off a bit. Especially because what little money he does get he smokes up in the living room with his idiotic friends. Friends who take it upon themselves to eat me out of house and home. Not to mention stomp all over my newly mopped kitchen floor and pale colored living room carpet in their dirty shoes after I told them not to. Are you gonna pay for my carpet to get cleaned assholes? Is your mama gonna write me a check? My mental state has been switching back and forth. Apathetic, Idealistic. I suppose I prefer apathy. You don't have to pull your fat ass off the couch to be apathetic. They're both better then my old stand by, crippling depression. My mom's become my best, actually my only friend. Which, I actually wouldn't mind if I could bring myself to truly not give a damn about how others think such a thing as a stong indicator of being a pathetic loser. Did I mention that I hate my job? Somehow I don't like watching people wasting their lives and their money in front of those damn machines. Man, I really want to go to London. Travel. I hate being cooped up in this crappy little town. Seeing the same damn faces. Visting the same places. I feel like I'm in one of those dame Hanna Barbara cartoons. Running and running but you just see the same background over and over. London would be nice. Australia. Start the travel abroad in places where most speak English. Well, some strange version of English. Man, I really hate my life. Don't know why. I suppose I'm just focusing on the fact that it could be better than the fact that it could be worse. Huh, maybe I am depressed and just convinced myself it's apathy. No, I think it's apathy.
Well, that actually did help. Perhaps I should start writing in my journal again.