I don't want to write. I don't want to say, do or think anything. I don't want to be here.

I hate writing. I hate reading. I hate homework. I hate Italian. I hate writing compositions at 1:00 a.m. for a class I have in ten hours; I hate it when they're about my family. I hate my Italian teacher for giving us this assignment and I hate the fact that I have no choice but to do it.

I hate rain, and heat, and cold. I hate sirens that keep me up at night and the silence that comes when someone else has fallen asleep before me. I hate insomnia. I hate bad dreams. I hate Mondays. Fuck Mondays. Fuck this whole week.

Fuck school. Screw classes. Goddamn degree, nobody will hire me anyway. I hate internships, I hate resumes, I hate cover letters. Fuck whomever it may concern.

I want to stomp around angrily; I want to yell; I want to find the oozy muck that is my bad mood and slouch down in it to fester for a while.

I have absolutely nothing to say; not even the things that I'm writing here have real purpose or meaning. There's no real explanation for this sudden outburst of bitchiness except that I have no desire to do work and, unfortunately, much to do. Also: no time to do it in.

There is nothing terribly wrong with my life these days. For the most part, things have been going very well. Great, even. But at the same time, there's also sort of that lack-luster aspect to it all—nothing's terrible, but nothing's really grand either. I'm not really passionate about any particular aspect of my life at this very moment: there are the classes I tolerate (with the exception of Italian, which I've come to loathe, but in a very passive-aggressive sort of way, which really could pass for toleration), the extracurricular obligations that I bat about, but avoid sinking my teeth into, the pleasant but approaching-its-expiration-date relationship which it seems entirely pointless to invest a great deal of feeling into (although I surely will continue to invest a great deal of pointless feelings into it, I'm sure), and well, the other things.

The truth is, I don't hate anything because it's all just kind of there, but well, not really much. Not really doing enough to warrant hatred. It's just blah, as is my life. And though I started out on such a fun, energetic and hatred-filled note, I just realized I've come to a completely boring and unfullfilling conclusion. And I fucking hate that too.

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Replies: 2

Posted by shaun @ 04/01/2002 01:58 AM EST

thank you for thoroughly entertaining me with my own feelings.

Posted by todd @ 04/01/2002 01:16 PM EST