You don’t think about it much anymore. It’s almost like it never happened. But then every now and then, as if from nowhere, it lands in your lap again. And there are nights like tonight, when you can’t stand people and in the twilight of the twilight zone it comes back to you. And it’s true, you can’t fucking stand them. It’s like a maze. You’re trying to do the right thing and not hurt people while you’re trying to take care of yourself and also trying to be honest. Well you fucking can’t. There is no way to do all of the above.
And in the end it’s you who will take the heat for all of the heat you created. In the end, you will stand alone and people will think less of you either way, whether you stay or go. In the end, life requires planning, and a social life doubly so, and some of us can do it and some of us can’t. You are among the latter.
Fuck ’em. Fuck ’em all.
Lonely? Yeah, I’ve been lonely. And just by saying that, in part because I’m a man and in part because this is fucking America, there are a dozen or a thousand or a million people out there ready to say, “get over yourself, you asshole, you think you’re the only one?” and if you do something about it, even if you do everything about it, they’ll still make fun of you, disrespect you, act like you weren’t human.
I hate this culture. I hate it. I fucking hate all of the hate, all of the cynical, we don’t care, we’re too ironic and too cultured and too cynical and too post-psychoanalytic to listen to you say you’re lonely you spoiled-brat-could-fix-it-in-a-second-or-at-least-I’ll-pretend-you-could- so-that-I-can-say-get-over-yourself-dammit hate.
Anybody wanna care about everyone else? Does anyone actually wanna care about everyone else? I do. I want to. But i can’t fucking do it alone.
Yeah, it makes you uncomfortable to hear it—so uncomfortable you have to turn it back on me? Fine. Hear it anyway, dammit. I’m lonely and I’m tired and nobody is on my side and I feel sorry for myself and I wish I could hug everyone, both for them and for me. So go ahead, feel self-righteous. I’m calling you on it, ’cause you ain’t perfect and you know you’ve been there too, loser.