Shit, this is going to take forever.
Sometimes, I wonder why I’m friends with certain people. But it feels so high school to think about these things. So maybe I should just stave off these thoughts until, well, they die their inevitable, pointless deaths. Because, really, some people, they’re just sad. And I keep telling myself it really won’t do any good to call them on their simple-minded delusions. Let them wallow, I say. I’m better off pretending I have much more important things to do than poke them in the eyes and wax poetic about their tragic hypocrisy. Yes.
I don’t really know these people, I guess. I try putting myself in their shoes, try to explore their probable perspectives, and it all just makes me want to puke. Because, the truth is, even if I know I don’t deserve it, I really do think too much of myself.
Self-perception is a trigger-happy bitch. One is never sure, however, in which direction her gun’s pointing at. I really do think too much of myself. I’m always thinking I’m too good for these mundane things, that I should be rewarded in the afterlife for putting up with idiots and morons and being forced to slum it with the rest of them. I’m always thinking I deserve more than this, this is shit, and I shouldn’t have to work for shit. But, really, those are probably just my moments of rage. When the shy-humble-fat-girl act feels too much like a noose around my neck, I just really want to flick a finger at the universe and dance deliriously to how much better I am than most people.
Deep breaths, Li, deep breaths. Some people just can’t help being stupid fucktards.
Sometimes, I wonder why I’m friends with certain people. But it feels so high school to think about these things. So maybe I should just stave off these thoughts until, well, they die their inevitable, pointless deaths. Because, really, some people, they’re just sad. And I keep telling myself it really won’t do any good to call them on their simple-minded delusions. Let them wallow, I say. I’m better off pretending I have much more important things to do than poke them in the eyes and wax poetic about their tragic hypocrisy. Yes.
I don’t really know these people, I guess. I try putting myself in their shoes, try to explore their probable perspectives, and it all just makes me want to puke. Because, the truth is, even if I know I don’t deserve it, I really do think too much of myself.
Self-perception is a trigger-happy bitch. One is never sure, however, in which direction her gun’s pointing at. I really do think too much of myself. I’m always thinking I’m too good for these mundane things, that I should be rewarded in the afterlife for putting up with idiots and morons and being forced to slum it with the rest of them. I’m always thinking I deserve more than this, this is shit, and I shouldn’t have to work for shit. But, really, those are probably just my moments of rage. When the shy-humble-fat-girl act feels too much like a noose around my neck, I just really want to flick a finger at the universe and dance deliriously to how much better I am than most people.
Deep breaths, Li, deep breaths. Some people just can’t help being stupid fucktards.
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