I’m Not Bothering With A Title

Warning: This post contains language of a very explicit nature, not to mention an extreme case of “I couldn’t care less how cohesive and sensical this post is” grammatical and structural characteristics.

Click the link below to read on.

Good afternoon, dedicated followers, visitors and friends. This is my dashboard – a place where all my creativity, ideas and opinions about this big, round rock that we are stuck on are posted on a somewhat daily basis. Today, I shall be cutting the crap, yes some free-writing straight from my ass.

As you would have probably picked up in previous blog posts, I hate my life. This, here, right now, is not what I had in mind as a little kid – at all. Very naive sentence, I know, but why does wishing for something out of the ordinary, mundane and frankly shit-smelling normality have to be so tabooed? I’m a romanticist, a dreamer, a philosopher, and I stick my middle finger to life’s regiments and society’s big-brown-box everyday, well, I try. Prison is not the coziest place to be in South Africa.

Anyway, enough with this rambling. I’m word-vomiting.

This past weekend, I realized how deeply unhappy I am. And as much as I like to and can use my middle finger in a crude manner, it won’t change the fact that shit is just how shit is. And usually, you are to blame for your own mistake/s. Case and point. Why the fuck am I studying at Rhodes if I’m not doing journalism? Why the fuck did I even WANT to study journalism? Look, yes, writing is my life. I can do this shit all day long and you wouldn’t need to pay me, but seriously, I can’t buy food with great literary works, and I can’t clothe myself with metaphors or iambic pentameter either. I want to be a writer, but is that a good idea? Is it a financially viable and future-proof career choice? Honestly though, how fucking difficult can it be to write the so-called next Harry Potter? And if I want to be a writer… why the fuck am I studying History and Philosophy – shit that I’m not vaguely interested in!! I’ve screwed all this up massively. MASSIVELY.

It probably doesn’t even matter if I graduate anyway. I have no Matric exemption – meaning, I can’t say I legally graduated with a degree even if I had in fact, squeezed my damn face through three torturous years of doing nothing that I’m fucking interested in just for a lousy, laminated piece of paper. That just reminded me, I need to visit the bureau about that… But, you see, with that piece of paper, I can eventually buy food, and clothes, and maybe even a house and car. Ohhh… wow! See my point?

QUESTION OF THE WEEK: Why the fuck should doing what you hate at any time in your life, be a demand, let alone an option, to have a better life later on? What kind of fucking sense does even that makes? (See what I did there?)

You know what, that isn’t even angering me right now. I’ll deal with that shit later. Right now, this year, this weekend, I missed two very important fucking milestones in my friends lives. If you think that’s petty then you can fuck right off because my friends mean everything to me. EVERYTHING. I’m missing everyone’s 21st birthdays this year. Yes, every-fucking-one. All seven of them this year. Am I allowed to cry bullshit yet?

So… optimists – what do you think? Am I being a whiny little bitch? Please, challenge me. Comment below.

I’m off to do more things I don’t want to do. /shouts hooray, very cheerfully.